


Beside you in time

by MistressMistrust



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV), daryl dixon - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Based on a True Story, Depressing, Descriptions of violence against children, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Friendship, Heartbreak, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Triggers, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-07-22 17:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressMistrust/pseuds/MistressMistrust
Summary: Daryl and Emily had been friends since they were three years old. Both from damaging, abusive backgrounds, it was in each other they sought solace and comfort. He stood in front of her to protect her from bullies, she spoke up for him when he was told he would amount to nothing, he held her when she cried until she was blue in the face and together, they tended to each others physical wounds. As the years passed and they each found their way through the tumultuous terrain of life and somehow, they were always drawn back to one another. A friendship so close, so fiercely protected and so precious that it was obvious to everyone around them that they belonged together. But, as choices are made, lives changed and secrets are kept under lock and key, can they ever really circle back through the complicated web of longing that they have woven and end up back where they started?





	1. The Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Another Daryl fic but this is not the Daryl that you might expect. In this AU, I have deviated from his character slightly, but his main traits are still there, especially his good ones. His back story is as close as it can be. This is a partially fictional, partially true story. It happened and it happened to me, just not exactly the way it is told here. Not every event took place in real life but the main theme of the story is true. The man that Daryl replaces in this is very similar to him in character. So, it worked quite well when I started writing it. If anyone is interested in the reality of what happened, I would be happy to answer questions, feel free to ask. I have never cheated on my spouse, nor am I in love with anyone but him (and Daryl!) But I have known what it's like to be one half of a very complicated, very long and devastatingly complex friendship.
> 
> My choice to share this has nothing to do with anyone else and I have not put this out here to be critiqued, to offend or to enter into debates with anyone about it. The real events that this is based on are sad and I can only hope that it helps anyone that reads it that finds themselves in a similar situation. 
> 
> I'm not a professional writer. This is all done for fun and for me. I make spelling and grammar mistakes, i'm human. I don't need them to be pointed out, if I don't pick them up on the 7th million edit, they stay there. This may not be updated as frequently as the other works I have as this is more of a cathartic exercise.  
> This story had adult themes, bad language, sex scenes and violence. First chapter includes a sex scene. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome, as always. I like to reply to every comment I get to convey how much I appreciate people taking the time to write me something. 
> 
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading.

Who was she really? That girl in the mirror. Staring back at her with a hopeful uncertainty that overshadowed what was supposed to be one of the most important and pivotal moments in her life. Her wedding day. Mousy brown hair pinned up into rollers, make-up blended and high cheekbones highlighted. Who was she? A girl from the south, dragged up in a broken home and with emotional scars that could stretch to the moon and back. She was a fighter, a survivor and a perfect example of refusing to be a product of her past. Now, she was embarking on a new journey, a new chapter in her life and as she looked into the mirror at her bright, icy blue eyes, she saw nothing but sadness.

A thin, silver necklace fixed around her neck with a round locket was pinched between her fingertips. The engraved pattern bumping over her skin as she slowly moved it back and forth. It was her most favourite gift she’d ever been given. Sat on the flatbed of a truck under the stars, blankets wrapped around her with a tiny, black box in her hands. She’d opened the lid to find it displayed inside and she’d gasped at the sight. Upon opening it, she found two, tiny and very precious photographs that she knew she would treasure from that very moment. The photographs were not of her and her future husband.

A soft knock at the door caught her attention and she dropped the locket, letting it fall to the middle of her chest, under her crisp, white bathrobe. She got up and padded across the hotel’s deep and velvety carpet, unlatching the door and pulling it open.

“Hey Em”

He had worn a suit a total of two times in his life. For each of his parents’ funerals, during which she had stood firmly by his side, clutching his hand tightly in hers and understanding completely the complexities of standing by the graveside of an abusive parent that did not deserve a single tear.

Now, he was wearing a suit for a different reason. A reason which he still couldn’t decide was good or bad. He wrestled with the conflict of being happy for his best friend and her decision to commit herself to another man for the rest of her life, or the devastation of that man not being him.

“Jen said you wanted to see me”

They were three years old when they first met at the park. Both mothers less than adequate and going through the motions when they were sober. Daryl and Emily had played in the sandpit for two hours, digging holes and chattering in their minimal vocabularies while their mothers struck up a damaging friendship that was doomed to spiral into addiction from the start. With each passing year came many trials and tribulations for young Emily and Daryl. But together, they could conquer anything. It was a notion that they had never let go of and one that was still ever present as he stood before her in the hallway of the five-star hotel in which she was due to marry her fiancé.

“Come in.” She smiled. The door opened further, revealing her to be dressed in one of the hotels bathrobes, it was a contrast to the perfectly applied make-up on her face. He stepped inside and breathed in that familiar scent. Apple shampoo and Calvin Klein perfume, her signature scent that immediately took him back to summer days spent sitting in the ramshackle shed in the woods they had adopted as their own and still used as teenagers. Hot, summer days spent lounging around on the cushioned, blanketed floor reading comics and drinking chocolate milk with the door open. Their own little world, away from everyone and everything.

“I got like an hour to go. Just wanted to spend some time with you.” She told him. The heavy door clicked shut behind them and she led him into the main bedroom. The super king sized, luxury bed dipped when she sat down on the end of it and motioned to the leather, office chair that was pushed under the dressing table. He settled opposite her, noting her fidgeting and tapping her fingertips on her thigh. A habit she’d had since childhood.

“You nervous?” He asked.

“Very”

Eating breakfast was a no go and she’d managed a single piece of toast before a nauseating wave of nerves washed over her and she decided not to eat anything else for fear of bringing it up on her dress, in the middle of getting married and in front of a sea of people she didn't know. Coffee had settled well enough but the caffeine only acted as fuel to her anxiety. So, in the end and against her better judgement, she had raided the mini bar and polished off a mini bottle of champagne while her make-up artist worked her magic and Jen, her one bridesmaid faffed about the room, making phone calls and ensuring everyone was where they should be, early and ready to start.

Daryl had always loved the colour of her eyes and frequently found himself lost in them and having to blink himself back to reality. He’d made no secret of the fact that they fascinated him. Her light blue, bright irises were like nothing he’d seen before. His own eyes were blue, but more like the depths of an ocean compared to the glacier blue of a cliff in the snow. When she looked up at him with fingers still drumming away on her thigh, he caught the signs of something other than pre-wedding nerves.

“Daryl” She whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you want to walk me down the aisle?”

When she’d asked him his legs almost buckled under him and his stomach felt heavy. Emily’s father had died when she was ten and she had no other notable and appropriate family members to ask. She had made it clear from the beginning that no one else had even crossed her mind. Daryl had been the one to protect her, he was the one that wiped her tears, dealt with every heartbreak and stuck with her through the treacherous terrain that was growing up in a neglectful and abusive household. He’d agreed without thinking, the need to make her happy taking precedence over his own emotions. It wasn’t until he returned home and sat on the couch that he realised he had promised to do something for her that was so monumental and likely to destroy any semblance of hope that he’d managed to hold on to, hope that she would one day choose to be with him, instead of anyone else.

“Course I do.” He replied.

To Emily, Daryl was the only person she’d met in her 28 years that totally understood her. He understood her random rages, her impulsive decision making and her need for independence. She hoped, that above all else, he understood her choice to ask him to be the one to give her away, because he was really the only person that she ever belonged to in the first place. Although he was going to be handing her over to her new husband, she couldn’t bring herself to accept that she would no longer be Daryl’s person, just like he was hers. For a long time, she hoped that she would be more than that one day. That he would somehow confess his feelings and love for her in a romantic and memorable way that would make for a moving and sweet story to tell their grandchildren. But a lofty hope it was and it never transpired.

“I’ve been thinking” She whispered

“Oh lord” He smirked. His heart almost exploded when she laughed tunefully and playfully shoved at his knee. When her smile dropped and she met his gaze, he sensed that what she about to say was going to be far from a throwaway musing. He could always tell when she was about to get deep and thoughtful and he couldn’t say he disliked it. With Emily, he liked most things he despised in others, she made everything that little bit more tolerable.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you’d made a different choice? If you’d maybe said all the stuff you wanted to say without being afraid to say it?”

It was like she knew exactly what he’d been thinking throughout every time he’d held her when she’d cried after a breakup, every time she confessed that she thought she was in love with someone she was seeing and every time she was down and punishing herself. If he could make a different choice, one, single different choice, he would have chosen to tell her that he loved her before she met Greg, the man she was due to marry in one hour. If he’d said all the things he wanted to say instead of biting his tongue, he’d have told her a million times over that he thought she was the most wondrous creature ever to have graced the earth and that the long line of ungrateful, mindless creeps that she’d dated didn’t know a good thing when they saw it.

He didn’t answer her straight away, such a taxing question was deserving of a little more thought than just a standard answer. He wondered what she choice she would have changed, what she would have said if she wasn’t so afraid to do so. He wanted to ask, but was afraid of the answer. Her big, icy eyes bore into his soul and he wanted more than ever to tell her the truth, but there was too much at stake. He could lose her forever and that was not an outcome he could live with. 

“Everyday.” He uttered honestly.

“Me too.”

They were fifteen when she realised. Fifteen years old, impressionable and hormonal but she was certain that those two things had absolutely zero impact on the conclusion she had arrived at when she was sitting opposite him in the shack, watching him shuffle cards. She knew then how she felt and she knew it wasn’t ever going to go away. He was her person, but he was so much more than that to her too.

“Em…” He started, leaning back and running a hand over his bristly chin. She was looking at him expectantly. This look was not lost on her, he was about to ask her a difficult question, she could see it written all over his face.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

The truth was, she wasn’t sure about anything except one thing. The man she truly loved was not the nervous man stood on the ground floor having his photo taken with his best man. He was sitting right in front of her, asking her if she was sure about making such a huge commitment.

“I have to be.” She answered. It wasn’t a lie as such, more just the way she saw it. She had said yes to Greg, who she’d been with for over a year and chosen to take the plunge after trying to convince herself that this was the only chance she would get at the suburban dream she so longed for since she was a child. Greg was a good man with a reputable job as a doctor and cared enough about her to make sure she had everything she wanted. He doted on her and wore her on his arm like his most prized possession. He wasn’t abusive, condescending or argumentative and Emily had to admit that she thought she’d lucked out when he first took his shirt off in front of her to reveal the most chiselled torso she’d ever had the pleasure of touching. She didn’t have a reason to say no. Or did she?

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do” He assured her. He took her hands and gently squeezed her fingers.

“Daryl, for my whole life people have abandoned me, disappointed me, hurt me, cheated on me and nobody has ever given me a reason to trust them. Except you. You are the one, consistent person in my life… and you’re my home.” She explained with soft, pink tinted lips and her perfectly straight and whitened teeth. She was a perfect sight to him.

“You’re mine too.” He agreed.

“Greg… he loves me. I don’t think he would hurt me, not intentionally. He’s a good man and he looks after me.”

In her mind, it was apparent to her that Daryl was more than capable of looking after her too. He’d been doing it for years before she met Greg. But if he didn’t feel the same things she felt for him, She knew she would never get the chance to make a life with him like she had the chance to do with Greg.

“Does he make you happy?” Daryl asked.

It was a tough question. Emily wasn’t really sure what happiness was and had been chasing it for most of her life. She was secure, comfortable, made to feel desirable and safe and if that spelled out a recipe for happiness, then so be it. 

“I’m the happiest I’ve been in a relationship.” She reasoned with a small shrug of one shoulder.

“You think that’s enough?” He pressed. His hands were still firmly holding onto hers, reluctant to let go. Always reluctant to let go.

“It has to be. I don’t dare to hope for any more than that.” She admitted.

He wanted to tell her that she should. That there is more than that. He could give her more than that. The words would never form every time he tried and he really had tried, countless times over the span of countless years. Each time put off by the thought of her running for the hills or being angry at him ruining their special and rare friendship.

“Whatever happens, if you two get divorced next week or you have a long and happy marriage, I’ll be around as long as ya want me to be.” He assured her.

“I know.” She smiled. 

She took her hands back and stood up, drawing her bathrobe closer around her. A flash of thigh meant his attention was diverted for a moment before he scolded himself and looked away. She wandered over to the window, where her dress was hung up on the rail, covered with a bright pink dust cover. Unhooking it, she breezed past him, telling him she was going to take her rollers out and get into her dress. 

“Ya want me to go get Jen?” he questioned.

The door closed and he waited for the lock to click into place, when it didn’t, it dawned on him that she didn’t need to lock the door. She trusted him completely and even if he did walk in on her, she knew his eyes would be firmly shut and he would run in and out in a second. Just like the times he’d stay at her place. They were sixteen and Daryl had to run into the bathroom to collect his toothbrush while she was in the bath to prevent himself from being late to his first ever job. Delivering newspapers to the rich part of town from his bicycle. The money he earned usually went on supplies for the shack, candy, popcorn and thick blankets for the cold, winter nights when they were forced to sleep out in the woods due to various, volatile situations at home. He smiled fleetingly at the memory.

“No. I told her to leave me be until I really have to go. She won’t be back for another 50 minutes; she makes me even more nervous. I’d rather you stayed with me. If that’s ok.” Came her muffled voice from behind the door.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He leaned back in the leather chair, ignoring its creaking frame under him and sweeping his eyes across the dressers contents. Discarded make-up, a silver bracelet and Emily’s cell phone sat on the surface, along with a small and tasteful bouquet of light pink flowers. She had always been understated, not one to make grand entrances and disliking being in the limelight. He wondered how she would fare at such a luxurious and big wedding and told himself that he would not stray too far from her, in case she needed to get away and collect her thoughts.

When Emily finally emerged from the bathroom, Daryl was reclined in the chair, slouched and holding the breakfast menu up in front of him. He pursed his lips at the thought of pancakes and bacon in bed in the morning and decided that before he left, he was going to eat, drink and steal as much from the hotel as humanly possible. He quickly glanced over at her, his eyes drifting back to the menu before he realised what it was he’d just seen. He shot up from his seat with his mouth hanging open. 

Her gown was fitted, satin with a lace panel across the bust. Her hourglass figure was perfectly flattered by the cut of the fabric and the bottom of the gown grazed the floor gracefully. Her hair hung in loose curls and she wore an uneasy expression.

He was speechless. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think and couldn’t ever imagine seeing anything more stunning again in his life. He couldn’t control the increase in his breathing and quickly he blinked at her, as if she wasn’t real and he was hallucinating the whole thing.

“What do you think?” She asked.

He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat and all that came out was a small grunt of confusion.

“Uh…”

His eyes wandered up and down her body several times and she let him survey her. His heart raced in his chest. There was never a doubt in his mind that Emily was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and was ever likely to see again anyway. But, stood there in front of him in a wedding gown, grown up and ready to be married off to someone that wasn’t him, he saw her as perfect and perfectly devastating at the same time.

“I uh… I think Greg is a lucky son of a bitch.” He confessed.

Shyness made her wring her hands in front of her and dip her head until the redness in her cheeks subsided. Making her blush was something he saw as a triumph although it was never a difficult thing to master. Her secret affection and feelings for him meant that he only had to look at her a certain way or use a clever choice of words to make her cheeks redden and her nervous giggle dance through his head. Daryl noted her drumming fingers on her thigh again when she raised her head again and bit her lower lip.

“Wow, you’ve never said that before.” She mumbled bashfully.

“Ain’t like I never wanted to.” He admitted.

Now, it was his turn to be examined. She took a couple of steps forward, into the main room again and looked over his sharp and well fitted suit. Like he had always considered her to be beautiful, for many years she had thought of him as the best-looking guy in existence. No one compared to Daryl and because he’d set the bar so high for her, everyone she dated was always second best in the looks department, as well as everything else too, if she was honest enough with herself.

“You look really good in that suit.” She purred.

He huffed and looked down at his attire. It had cost him more than he’d paid for his truck to buy the suit he wore. He did have the offer of hiring it, but as it was such a memorable occasion, he had opted to buy it outright instead, telling himself he may need it one day in the future.

“Feel like a waiter or something.” He quipped with an awkward scratch of the back of his neck.

She smiled briefly but her face soon turned serious and she stepped closer to him. He didn’t back away and allowed her to stand so close that he could see the delicate curl of her eyelashes. He realised his hands were sweaty when she took hold of them at his sides but it didn’t matter, there was something else more pressing on his mind once she began to speak.

“When we teenagers, I remember going to the shack with you. We sat inside and ate candy and played cards for hours. I know we did that a lot, but this time it was different. It was cold and you gave me your jacket. We were around fifteen.”

“I remember.” He uttered.

“There was a moment when I was watching you and suddenly the way I looked at you changed. You’d switched the flashlight on and left it on the floor because it was getting dark, there was this glow on your face. You were concentrating on shuffling the cards. When you looked up at me, I realised why I couldn’t stop staring at you.”

A moment of silence, heavily laced with anticipation and some kind of tension passed between them. Emily knew what she was saying and she was being very deliberate with it. What she didn’t know, was why and why right then? Without any reasonable answers to her own questions, she committed to making her point.

“Said you were daydreaming.” He pointed out.

“I wasn’t. I was sat there, totally bowled over by the fact I never realised that you were the nicest looking guy I’d ever seen. As you got older, you got more and more attractive until I just knew that I would never find anyone that compared to you. I still haven’t.”

As far as honest conversation went, it was as close to a confession that either of them had ever experienced. Emily didn’t know why she felt the need to tell him, but the look on his face had made it worth it. He was transfixed by her and she had already noted the change in the atmosphere between them. Now, he knew a little about what she really thought of him and aside from being completely terrified, she felt a tingle of excitement.

Her eyes fixed on his, the mood now tense but somehow addictive. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing emerged at first. She moved even closer, their bodies inches apart and she could hear and see that his breathing was jagged and he was struggling with what to say.

“You…” he tried before swallowing hard. She was still and urging him to continue with her eyes. The words travelled on his breath and if the room wasn’t quiet, she wouldn’t have heard them. “You’re so god damn beautiful.”

Simple words could have big consequences and for Emily and Daryl, it hadn’t been more apparent than in that moment. Somehow, everything had changed and they no longer stood there as two best friends. They were now something else. Not more but not less. In limbo and drifting around in the middle, in the confusing and complicated grey area that they would remain in unless one of them was brave enough to drag them out of it.

Emily raised a hand and tenderly grazed her thumb over his lips. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and let himself go. He was allowed this one, little pleasure. He had longed for it for so long. The most affectionate way she had ever touched him. In the time it took for him to take a deep breath and open his eyes, he found she had pressed her body to his and was rendering him totally immobile. Rooted to the spot. Her lips brushed his and in a blurry haze came the one thing he had wanted, the thing he imagined as best he could with nothing to go on, the thing he fantasized about during nights when he just wanted her to be next to him like old times. Emily, his Emily…was kissing him.

Initially, shock froze him to the spot and her velvety lips continued to charm him into responding. But he didn’t need the encouragement, he wasn’t strong enough to pull away. He needed this. He needed her. Whatever it meant or whatever it didn’t mean, he was content in the knowledge that he could die knowing what it was like to kiss Emily. The thing the struck him most about the attentive yet hesitant way her lips kissed his own, was the unwavering surety that no matter the situation or what promises she was going to make in the next hour, it just felt so utterly right.

She broke away from him as if she’d been reminded of why she was even standing in the room in the first place. She lowered her head, seeing her pink, painted toenails sinking into the plush carpet before her wedding gown covered them. Her cheeks simmered with shyness and her chest rose and fell not just with the astonishment of what she had just done, but also with the passion with which she wished she could put behind the kiss.

Neither of them spoke or even tried to, silently standing there opposite one another and peering awkwardly around the room until their eyes meet once more. It was like an electric current that shots through them both and an invisible, powerful chain that pulled them back together so quickly that Daryl stumbled a little when she threw herself back against him. Their lips crashed together in a bolder, deliberate move and with such hunger that Daryl groaned against her. His hands journeyed around her waist, over the smooth satin of her dress. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be touching her like that, but she wasn’t stopping him. Her fingers were pushed into his light brown hair as she held his face to hers, her tongue flicking and massaging over his. Warmth and need increased in his stomach, threatening to boil over and his heart started to hammer when he felt her drop a hand between them and pluck open his belt buckle. The thought sent shockwaves though him and he took it as a sign, a signal that he had the go ahead. Her scent, perfume and apple shampoo, filled his senses and his mind flashed back to when he would envelope her in his arms as she cried and nestle his nose into her hair. 

He wasted no time in gaining a hold of the zipper on the back of her dress and slid it down past the curve of her lower back while she was busy opening the front of his pants. Every time their kiss broke or someone needed to take a breath, they hurried back to one another, not being able to get enough. She shoved his pants down over his hips and pushed his jacket off, setting to work on opening his shirt. Part of him wanted to move back and watch her undress him, then it couldn’t be questioned, it was happening, at long last. She tugged his tie off and managed to fully open his shirt and place her hands on his bare chest as he effortlessly flicked the straps of her dress off her shoulders with one finger, disappointment stinging him as she caught the front of it. Eventually caving in to his need to really see her, he moved away from her lips and shot her a lust fuelled glare, his teeth clamping down on his lower lip as his eyes began to lower, working down her body. She let go of her gown. The silky fabric shimmered as it dropped to the floor, leaving her in white, lace underwear. He had seen her in a swimsuit before, but only ever a one piece and this was completely different. She could hear his breath catch in his throat and see him swallow hard as he gazed down at her body. His lips moved and she noticed him say something under his breath, the words barely formed as they left his lips.

“Oh my god.”

She stroked over his chest, her fingertips taking note of every ripple and inch of his flesh in case she was ever to forget what he feels like, she can almost hear his heartbeat and considered that it was beating just as hard as her own. Unable to tolerate the level of self-restraint he was having to use, he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her with a ferocity that she’d never felt in any other man she’d been with. Pure, canal desire. That was the difference; his unquestionable and frenzied need for her after so long being not quite close enough. She held onto the bicep of his bent arm, digging her nails into his skin and somehow, he managed to back her up to the end of the bed, where she left his lips and sank down onto it, scooting back at the same time he crawled over her. He licked his lips with the anticipation of being able to taste her. Once he was over her, he took hold of her bra strap with one index finger and dragged it down, followed by the same on the other shoulder. She wriggled her arms free and draped them over his broad shoulders, sitting up slightly to kiss him and to let his hand sneak around her back and free her clasp. The locket he had bought her was cold against his skin when she closed the gap between them. With her bra unfastened, he tossed it across the room, hitting the mirror with a ‘ping’ in the process. He had been starving for her for years and as a result, devoured her chest, kissing and licking over her nipples and enjoying every arch of her back and flinch of pleasure.

She pushed his pants down more and he discarded them with a couple of kicks, along with his shoes. Shifting further over her, he heaved in a shaky breath and crossed the invisible line they had both been toeing. He pressed his erection to her core through his boxers to the sound of her sharp gasp and tilting her hips to him, applying more pressure. More, she needed more. He groaned against her breasts as he took a nipple between his lips and flickered his tongue across the tip. She reached down, either side of him and hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband of his boxers. Her forcing them down bit by bit told him that she wanted his assistance and that his underwear needed to disappear. He complied and freed himself from the confines of the fabric. She held her breath briefly at a sight she couldn’t help but wonder about for so many years, he was certainly not disappointing and in that split second, he became ten times more alluring to her when she didn’t even think it was possible. Then, it was her turn as he slid her panties down, over her knees and left them at the end of the bed. He lifted one of her legs, leaving hot, tingling kisses on the inside of her thigh as he worked towards the middle, stopping short of actually touching her and leaving her feeling a delightful yet frustrated surge of desire. Wasting no time, he went back to her lips, kissing her as he gently slipped his middle and index fingers between her legs, circling, teasing. She moaned against his lips and it only served to fuel him more. His hot erection against her leg was clamped between their bodies, the pressure providing him with at least some relief which he badly needed when he pushed two fingers inside her and watched her legs widen and her back arch, her nails dragged over his skin and when he nipped at her neck she cried out such a lustful and delicious tune he thought he could come undone there and then. 

Time was of the essence and she didn’t want to wait any longer, his skilled fingers worked inside her and brought her almost to the brink until she shoved him away and opened her eyes to find him staring raptly down at her body. He slowly managed to bring his eyes back up to hers and she saw his moistened, pinked lips and his dilated pupils.

“Daryl… I want…”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence; he knew what she wanted because he wanted the exact same. He positioned himself over her, between her legs and used himself to brush through her wetness, over her sensitive spot as he hungrily kissed her lips. His body shuddered as he pushed inside her, gently at first, until she was pulling on his hips and raising herself to him, encouraging him to thrust faster, harder, deeper until they no longer felt like two separate people. She wanted all of him, every inch and no matter how close he was, no matter how deep inside and how much of the surface of his body was connected to hers, he still wasn’t close enough to her. She hadn’t felt pleasure like it before. Not with Greg, not with anyone. This was a new kind of pleasure born out of the realms of emotion and not just physicality. With Daryl it felt so natural and as if he already knew her body and how it worked, already knew what she liked and how to make her moan so loud he was sure someone would catch them.

“Shh” He soothed, smiling against the crook of her neck where he kissed and nibbled at her flesh.

“Sorry.” She breathed “I can’t… I can’t help it.”

It made him beam, a wide grin emerging on his face while he continued to make love to the one girl he’d always adored and craved but was continually too scared to tell. She wrapped her legs over his back, nudging at him with her feet. Her insistence that she couldn’t get enough of him was making him groan and he kissed her to try and muffle the sound. Sweat was beading on her chest and his forehead, increasing with every pant and gasp. She could feel herself falling, falling towards her release and she knew that when it happened it was going to be shattering. 

And it was. The room vanished and there was only him and her suspended in their bliss. Her body singing with light and her skin flushing a deep red across her chest. She convulsed under him with her toes curled and gripped him with every part of her, shamelessly verbalising her sheer pleasure in a gravelled growl through her teeth. Daryl couldn’t take how good her orgasm felt to him when she tightened around him and shook and so, he let go too, breathing heavily against the side of her face and pushing himself deep inside her as he throbbed and shuddered.

Sweat coated their bodies, her hair was tousled and her skin goose pimpled from the intense, thunderous wave she’d been riding. Emily held him to her, unwilling to let him to leave her body just yet. He peppered her sensitive skin with kisses, over her lips and down her neck and across her chest. As he affectionately rubbed his nose on hers, her sense of dread began to creep back in, marring their sensual and significantly earth-shattering encounter. Questions began to probe at her conscience; What is this? Does this mean he feels the same as you? What happens now? To her, it was everything, all the subtle hints at how they really felt about each other finally coming to a head and creating something truly incredible. To her, it was more than sex, she knew that much. But there was a man downstairs that was waiting to be married to her. A man that loved her and a man that she was quite sure she loved right back, but not in the same way. Daryl had astonished her with his reaction to her kiss. It was no secret that he could be more affectionate and loving than anyone would give him credit for, but he had made her feel like the most important and spellbinding creature on the earth. 

He studied her eyes and moved back from her. They dressed in silence, only a couple of stolen glances breaking the monotonous task of re-dressing. Then, at a complete loss, they sat on the end of the bed next to one another, caught in an endless cycle of attempting to say something but deciding against it. She tapped her fingers on her thigh and he slowly rubbed his hands together as he leaned forward on his knees.

“I should go.” He announced much to her dismay.

Standing up and brushing his suit down, he briefly stopped by the mirror to straighten his tie before going to the door. As he opened it, her hand shot out from behind him and she reached around his shoulder, slamming the door shut in the frame. She nuzzled into his neck and he tilted his head back, eyes closed and urging his feet to move so he could open the door and remove himself from such a problematic situation. “Emily… Stop. Please” He pleaded.

But she didn’t, she wouldn’t. She slid her hands around his body, under his jacket and kissed him softly. A small, tender kiss that lasted mere seconds before she rested her forehead on his.

“That was- it was-”

“-amazin’. Yeah, I know.” He continued for her.

“So…amazing.” She agreed breathlessly

“Yeah. But ya gotta stop. Ya getting married.”

She pulled back and regarded him with such a deep sadness and with tears in her eyes that he very nearly suggested they just run away together. But the thought alone was flighty, ridiculous and not realistic. Especially because he still hadn’t figured out if this was any more than a one-time thing to her.

“Yes, I am… Greg can’t ever know about this.”

There is was. Confirmation. His world fell apart at the sound of the sentence. Just like that, any hope he’d held that maybe one day they would end up together, disintegrated right there and then in front of him. He wanted a different outcome. One from the movies where they admit they love one another and run off into the sunset leaving a hotel full of angry and confused guests because nothing else matters except them being together. He hoped she would change her mind and tell him that she felt the same and would choose him. But she wasn’t going to and deep in his soul, he knew she wouldn’t. To make matters worse. He had to take a few minutes to mentally prepare for the biggest and most emotionally destructive task he would ever perform. He had to give the woman he loved away to another man after connecting so profoundly with her for the first and only time, not even an hour beforehand. He had to walk her down the aisle with a heart shattered to pieces and a soul as heavy as cement.

“I know.” He mumbled, nearly choking on the words. “I promise.”

He promised for her. A secret he would take to the grave, for her. He would live broken and incomplete but he could see her happy.

Emily was torn, her chest literally thrumming with pain like her heart had been sliced into two, useless halves. She had no doubt about her love for Daryl, she hadn’t for years. But she also believed she loved Greg and had committed to taking vows with him. Was it even possible to love two people at the same time? She didn’t know if she loved them in the same way, but the prospect of her hurting either of them was enough to make her want to walk away from them both. She didn’t regret having sex with Daryl, but now she had to live with the memory of their one, incredible tryst and that nothing would ever come of it. 

Daryl tore away from her, opened the door and left. In the twenty minutes she had left to herself, she cried uncontrollably until she had no choice but to re-apply her make-up, put on her best fake smile and compose herself well enough in time for Jen to collect her and take her down to the lobby, where Daryl was waiting. She didn’t know how he would react but her stomach was filling with acid and she felt physically sick at the thought of how much it could potentially hurt him to have to give her away after what they’d just shared. If he didn’t want her as any more than a friend, he was likely to still be extremely confused and mixed up.

She’d met Jen in school and while Daryl was her ‘person’, Jen had proved to be a source of great support and many a free breakfast complete with gossip and advice in the past. She had a head of long, thick, dyed red hair and was vibrant, funny, energetic, extremely perceptive and very proud to be an out lesbian. Love being love in all it’s varying forms meant that It had been apparent to Jen since Daryl and Emily were thirteen that they belonged together. She’d tried to encourage them, to push them closer together and drop hints about how childhood friends that get married hardly ever divorce. But blinding them with statistics didn’t work anymore than being blunt with them. They both recoiled every time and insisted they were just friends. Which was a tragic waste to Jen.

In the elevator on the way down to the lobby, Emily checked her face in the mirror and wondered once more, who the female in the reflection was that was looking back at her. She still didn’t know and she figured that after recent events, only time would tell. Now, her eyes seemed darker, her mood was definitely lower and not that of a bride about to take her vows. 

Daryl was waiting for her outside the elevator’s doors. When they opened, she felt an unexpected urge to rush at him and fling her arms around him. But most of all, to apologise. She needed to tell him she was sorry for putting him in such a difficult position. But in the presence of Jen and with the doors to the main ceremony room open and waiting for her, it wasn’t the time.

“You ready?” He asked, offering her his arm and managing to expertly mask his pain.

“Think so.” She squeaked.

When she held on tightly to his arm and Jen fanned out her dress behind her, they set off for the ornate doors of the ceremony room. Floor to ceiling doors decorated in gold leaf on a white background that swept across a bright red carpet. Emily thought it looked very regal, a world away from her taste, but Greg’s parents had chosen it and paid most of the bill, leaving Greg and Emily to cover the cost of the food. Emily’s job as a struggling magazine colmnist didn’t turn up much money and so they had to rely on Greg’s salary as a general physician at the local hospital. He had been fine with it, telling her the most important thing to him was being able to marry her, even if they had to say their ‘I do’s’ in their living room. Emily leaned close to Daryl and kept her voice quiet enough for no one to overhear.

“You don’t have to do this.” She whispered.

“What? Give ya away?”

“Yes”

She wanted him to know that she was willing to walk alone, or with Jen to spare him the confusion of what was to be a short, but mammoth task.

“I ain’t givin’ you away.” He replied blankly as he straightened his back. They were three feet away from the door which was flanked with smart looking hotel staff. She began to panic, was he about to make a scene and publicly announce what they had just done? No. That wasn’t Daryl. Was he going to just walk away and leave her there? She peered up at him with pleading and desperate eyes.

“I’ll walk ya and I’ll give him ya hand. But to me, you’ll always be my girl, no matter what. 

The air left her lungs in a loud huff and she paused, subtly stamping a heeled foot on the carpet and lifting her eyes to the ceiling to contain the tears that were brimming around the edges. He heard a small whimper from her and asked himself if he’d just done the right thing. If anything, she now knew that he saw her as his, and even if she was married to someone else, he would always be there. But her response had been one of despair and for that, he felt guilty.

“Guys, move!” Jen hissed from behind them. 

The aisle was suddenly a lot longer than she remembered and it seemed to take forever and a day to get to the end of it but by the time she did, she managed to convince everyone around her that her tears were due to tears of joy at getting married. Not because she had cheated on Greg before their marriage had even began, with her lifelong friend who had now told her that he saw her as his, something she’d wanted him to tell her years ago. She could see that everyone around them was Greg’s friends and family. The only people in attendance for her being Jen and Daryl. She had no one to turn to, no one to ask for advice about a secret that she was going to be forced to die with. 

Greg’s face was a picture, he was smiling at her from the end of the aisle with bloodshot eyes and she thought how handsome he looked. Handsome, smart, wealthy and decent Greg. He didn’t deserve to be married to someone who was capable of committing such a horrendous act but as she observed the wonder and love on his face, she knew she could never tell him. Daryl unhooked her arm from his when they came to a halt and gave it a light squeeze before holding it out in front of them. Greg stepped forwards and slid his fingers under hers. Daryl locked eyes with him.

“You take real good care of her.” He said. His tone was more of a warning than well wish and he was sure that Greg heard it, loud and clear.

“I will. Thank you, Daryl.” He replied sincerely.

When Emily’s hand slipped from Daryl’s grasp and was transferred into Greg’s, she took a deep breath and mentally committed herself to doing what she thought was the right thing.

Daryl stood with Jen at the front of the huge blocks of guests, none of them faces he recognised. When Emily and Greg said their vows, the pieces of his heart scattered even further apart and when it was announced that anyone who objected should ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’, he clamped his teeth together and closed his eyes. Jen glanced to her side to check on him, she was under no illusions that this day would be hard on him and when she noticed the muscles in his neck pulled taut and eyes turn glassy, she held her hand out in front of him. He stared down at it, a single tear running down his cheek before he took hold of it and allowed her to hold onto it at her side.

“You did good, man.” She whispered to him. “And I don’t just mean today. She’s who she is because of you.”


	2. The Sandbox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to be short chapters in this one, written as flashbacks and flash-forwards <3 Thank you for the love so far. This one means a lot to me.

**_ Then _ **

Daryl, at three years old, was considerably quieter than his older brother had been at that age. He would murmur to himself while he played on the floor beside his mothers’ legs in the living room, his toys nothing but broken hand me downs and whatever he happened to find on the carpet. A plastic lid from an ice cream tub, an empty packet of cigarettes or a toy car with only three wheels. Daryl had to be quiet, even at that age. Should he cry or cause a fuss, his father would bellow at his mother to ‘keep that damn kid quiet’ or exercise his fists while using his brother as a punching bag. His mother thought him too young to know at the time, but Daryl could sense fear. He could sense tension and anger. A perceptive and intuitive child, he soon learned as he grew up how to keep himself under the radar of his violent and callous father.

Emily was chattier and brighter as a three-year-old, mesmerised by bright colours and the need to communicate. She liked to draw and scribble on things, a habit which had earned her a smack or two already in her three, tender years. Her creativity and upbeat demeanour were soon shouted into submission by the volatile, alcohol and drug induced actions of her mother, who blamed Emily for her father’s departure, as if she’d entered the world with the sole intention to wreak havoc and misery wherever she went. Emily was an only child, meaning any disfunction in the family was always directed at her. That was, when her mother remembered she had to parent from time to time and took her on a rare, partially sober trip to the sandbox at the park.

It was noon, the sun was high in the sky and neither of the children were wearing a hat or any sunscreen as they dug around in the golden, fluffy sand. Their tiny hands used as shovels to scrape deep mounds from beneath them. Chubby, curious fingers drawing patterns and patting handprints onto the surface. Daryl and Emily were talking to one another. Maybe not in a coherent manner that an adult would have been able to decipher, but their actions; prolonged, fascinated eye contact and shared giggles meant they were able to communicate in their own way

Emily’s mother slumped down onto the bench and glanced to her side at the mousy, thin and withdrawn woman sat beside her. Her bruised arm quickly covered up by her hoisting a ripped, knitted cardigan up over her shoulder. Her hair was fine and flyaway, light brown strands blowing in the light breeze. Her eyes sunken and tired. She offered her a meek smile before turning her attention back to the two children playing in front of them. The park was empty save for them and Daryl’s mother wondered if he would be so receptive to any other children. It was the first time she had seen him smile so eagerly since she’d bought him a slice of chocolate cake at the store with a five-dollar bill she’d found floating along the sidewalk. She rarely had the chance to treat her sons, her husband usually taking every cent she had. The opportunity to do something in secret with her youngest son that they both enjoyed was a chance she wasn’t going to pass up.

She flinched when she heard a voice come from the woman beside her. Her nervous and uneasy expression starkly obvious when she wrung her hands in her lap. 

“Cute kid” The woman said. “He likes the sand, huh?”

“Thank you.” She uttered. “He-he likes being outside.”

The woman nodded and reached inside her jacket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and propping one between her thin, wrinkled lips. She appeared older than her years, her once, glossy blonde hair now brittle and greying. Her blue eyes turning darker with each passing year. She lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply, doing a small double take at her unexpected companion, who was focused on watching her son pick up handfuls of sand only to see it cascade through his little fingers. 

She knew Daryl was a child of nature, his only freedom being running around in the treeline in front of their house with his big brother, who was little older than ten himself but adamant he was going to teach him to hunt, shoot and cuss like a man. She was grateful for the times Merle had watched his baby brother, it meant she could climb into bed with a bottle of vodka and a pack of Camels and forget that she lived with a good for nothing, aggressive monster…and that he was beginning to rub off on her. The more she drank the more she hated everything and everyone around her. All except her boys, who she wished she could be a better parent to.

She felt a nudge to her elbow and smiled thinly when it occurred to her that she was being offered a cigarette. She had her own pack inside the pocket of her jeans but was not about to turn down a freebie if it was offered. She gingerly plucked one from the pack, leaned forwards while it was lit for her and nodded a thanks to the strangely sociable woman at her side.

“What’s his name?” She asked, nudging her head up at the small boy.

“Daryl.” She whispered.

When her response was followed by a silence and she’d expelled the smoke from her lungs after the first drag, she glanced sideways, seeing the woman glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

“I know you. You live over yonder, in that rickety ol’ shack. You’re Dixon’s ol’ lady, got another kid, right?” She probed brazenly. 

“Uh, yes, Merle. He’s a little older.” She told her

Emily’s mother grunted, as if she knew all too well that Merle was older. As if she knew a whole lot about the Dixon’s anyway. Like local celebrities, Daryl’s family were well known, but for all the wrong reasons.

“You have a beautiful little girl.” Daryl’s mother pointed out as Emily began to play patty cake with Daryl, their clothes, faces and hands covered in sand. 

“Ahh, kids pretty but she’s a pain in my ass. Even more so since her daddy left.” She scoffed back, waving a hand in the direction of the pretty, fair-headed child with the melodic giggle.

While Daryl’s mother considered her new park acquaintance to be rather cold and unfeeling, she was thankful for the conversation and the cigarette. It wasn’t often she got out of the house and was able to talk to people. Her husband usually put a stop to it, calling her all manner of names if he caught her conversing with anyone, let alone another male. She sometimes thought she would slowly go insane if she had to endure many more years of staring at the same ripped drapes and watching the same mindless TV shows.

“Sorry to hear that.” She said sincerely.

“I ain’t. Guy was an asshole. Full of broken promises and bullshit.” She took out a hip flask from her seemingly bottomless pit of an inside pocket and openly sipped from it. She had done this before, that much was obvious.

“Take the edge off?” She asked, deciding to share her drink as well as her smokes.

Daryl’s mom carefully eyed the silver hip flask, she could smell the whiskey without even trying. Her logic told her not to, but her body craved it. It had been 8 hours since her last drink. She accepted, her frail fingers and yellowing fingernails grasping the flask and tilting it to her lips. She closed her eyes and let the strong liquid travel down her throat, warming her insides and satisfying her shaking hands.

“Thank you.” She croaked.

“Plenty more where that came from. Only thing that gets me through the damn day” Emily’s mother announced with a throaty, phlegm clogged chuckle. Yes, it was true they had a lot in common, that much could be said when they both sat back and finished up the hip flask together and smoked the rest of their cigarettes while the children chirped and rambled on to one another happily.

“I’m Diana” Daryl’s mother eventually said.

“Rose”

When Emily managed to climb out of the sandbox and fall to her knees, her face crumpled and her cheeks reddened, a shrill cry sounding up and around the park like a siren. Diana was slightly taken a back when Rose merely rolled her eyes and refused to move. Thinking she might get up herself and tend to the little girl, her son beat her to it. Carefully, and with the dexterity of a drunk chimpanzee, he managed to manoeuvre out of the raised box and plant his feet firmly on the floor. With one hand, he grabbed the back of Emily’s bright pink sweater and tugged on it but she continued to cry. It wasn’t until he swooped down and wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her upright that she finally quietened. Apparently unbothered by the whole thing, her tears vanished and she reached into the sand box, picked up a spade and showered them and everything surrounding them with grains. Much to Daryl’s delight 

Daryl was a sensitive little boy. Diana knew him to be nothing like his father or brother. Maybe more like her before her life turned into an endless stream of drinking, being punched and going to the same store every day to buy beer. When she witnessed his unabashed act of pure and selfless kindness, she felt her heart swell with pride. That was her boy.

“It’s nice to meet you. Looks like our children are going to be friends.” She mentioned.

Rose shook her head at her daughter, flitting around and throwing sand everywhere with a grin so wide only a child could display such glee without it being tainted or marred by the perils of growing up.

“Let’s hope so. Keep her out of my hair as she gets older.”

And so, began a connection between two three-year olds, both with family lives (or lack thereof) that left something to be desired and their dysfunctional and troubled mothers. Little did they know that out of a chance meeting at the park, would come a friendship so fierce and unwavering that it would be matched by none and envied by all.


	3. The Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All told in a series of flashbacks and flashforwards. Back to the wedding in this one. Will correct mistakes as I read over it. <3

**_ Now _ **

He thought it would never end. The torture of seeing Emily wed someone else. So, once the ceremony was over and he’d endured having to sit through an entire four course meal while battling with the nausea of his mixed emotions, he took himself outside for a cigarette and some much-needed reflection. Emily had breezed about all afternoon, speaking to people she didn’t know and thanking them for coming and for their kind compliments on her dress and general looks. He thought she looked uncomfortable more than once but soon fell back into dutiful wife mode when Greg hung a protective arm over her shoulder and placed a light kiss on the side of her head. Daryl stood under a dim light out in the grounds, looking out over a vast, well-tended green with such straight stripes that he thought they could well have been drawn with a ruler. He lit his smoke and was grateful for the nicotine fix after so many hours without one. Movement from beside him caught his attention and his body stiffened when he saw it was Emily.

“Are you OK?” She asked.

His mind spiked with irritation. A feeling he didn’t want to experience and couldn’t justify. It had taken two of them and he didn’t put a stop to things anymore than she did. But she made the move, _she_ kissed _him_ and then she went and got married to someone else. Daryl felt like second best, not quite good enough, not rich and good-looking enough to stick around. The story of his life.

“Fine” he grunted.

Then came the awkward silence that he so dreaded. He had expected it. For so many years he and Emily were able to sit in comfortable quiet, neither one of them feeling the need to fill the void with mindless chit chat. They spoke when they needed to and rambled when they wanted to but never once did they find themselves in such a precarious position as this one.

Emily delicately draped her hand over the up lit, wooden fence around the decking. The light illuminated her face and the curves of her body, her satin dress doing nothing to distract his indulgence in the memory of journeying his hands over her smooth skin. Her face wore a concerned expression that her make-up and flawless look failed to hide.

“I’m sorry.” She said under her breath. “What I did to you today…It’s unforgivable.”

The irritation that simmered under the surface surged from nowhere, prodded at his nerves and took him by surprise. He was tired, tired of the whole thing and now things had changed forever and he couldn’t fathom a reason why he should have to tiptoe around it any longer. He quickly scanned the area around them, they were alone.

“Be as sorry as ya want. I don’t care. I aint sorry at all.” He remarked before taking a long drag of his smoke and keeping his vision fixed on the vast grounds of the venue and not on the face of the woman he had longed for and finally got to have, but only for a limited time. He didn’t deserve her, he knew that much. She did a double take at him, her face frozen with shock.

“What?”

He took another long drag of his smoke, puffing the white plume high into the air before flicking the remnants of the cigarette out onto the lawn. A typically rebellious act that Emily could have put money on. He refused to face her, avoiding her gaze and seeming angrier with every word that passed his lips. 

“Said I aint sorry. Why would I be?”

When he finished his sentence, he finally risked a peek at her, but his eyes became locked. Tied to hers with an invisible string that was too tough to break. He didn’t have to convince her; she knew he was telling the truth.

“I cheated on him” She croaked.

There it was again, that awkward and thick silence that meant he felt like he was standing in soup, unable to move too far and like every single movement had a ripple effect. The only thing he felt guilty for, was how she was feeling, but he wasn’t about to take the sole blame for that.

“Yeah, ya did.”

“I couldn’t tell him. I made a promise to him today.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. A mocking laugh of pure disbelief. A Promise. That was rich. Emily appeared forlorn and confused. She tried to step closer to him, finding to her surprise that he only moved back further away from her.

“Your promise means shit now” He spat.

“Daryl” She breathed, her hand coming up to her chest. His eyes flashed with rage at her deliberately innocent and seemingly guilt provoking reaction. He felt as though he was being caught up in a web of emotional manipulation and just couldn’t fathom why. She was married to someone else, what more could she possibly want from him?

“What am I sposed to say, Em? Huh?!” He raged, now closing the gap between them and rushing at her, bringing his face inches from hers. She quickly scanned the area by the door. Still no one but them. “You had-”

“-Lower your voice” She interrupted.

“You had… _sex_ with me and then went runnin’ back to him.” He remarked. His arm flailed aggressively in the air as he spoke.

She tried to respond, to protest and tell him that’s not how it was. But she’d be lying and her words would be for nothing. So instead, she opted to stay quiet before she made things any worse.

“But I didn’t stop ya neither. I did…that with my best friend n’ another guy’s fiancée…wife. Whatever.” He continued, now starting to stride about in front of her. Tears filled her eyes as she witnessed his hurt. A complicated and raw hurt that she was well aware she’d caused. When he stopped and glared at her, she thought she felt her heart snap into two pieces. “I know it’s gonna have to be our secret. I’ll keep it. I’ll take it to the grave. But I aint ever gonna lie to you and say I’m sorry for what happened.” She swallowed hard. Having known Daryl since she was three, she thought she knew him better than he knew himself, but his heightened emotional response to what had transpired in her hotel room had knocked her for six.

“Do you regret it?” he wanted to know. 

Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but all that emerged was an exasperated huff and a subtle shake of her head, as if she couldn’t quite believe the situation that she’d found herself in. She thought of Greg, her new husband who was waiting patiently inside for her to check on her best friend and her stomach flipped at her betrayal. But stood before her was her person, the one individual she would have trusted with her life and he was hurt because of her. For that, she owed him the truth. She took a deep breath and forced herself to answer him.

“No. I don’t.”

“It don’t matter now anyways.” He pointed out. And it didn't. She was married. 

“You’re angry with me” She observed. 

Daryl closed his eyes and rubbed at them with this thumb and forefinger for a moment, needing a slight respite from such a taxing exchange. Asking himself if he was really angry with her, or the situation heralded only one answer; it was neither. He was angry with himself.

“Naw. I’m just acceptin’ it for what it is.” He told her.

“And what is it?” she demanded 

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, pushed his hands into his pockets and lowered his gaze to the floor, all moves that Emily knew to be customary to Daryl before he confessed or admitted something he wouldn’t usually talk about. She waited, screaming inside for him to just answer the question. He turned to the side, noticing Greg breeze past the door on the inside, checking on his bride. He thought of all the times he’d toyed with the idea of telling her how he really felt, all the times he wanted to remind her how beautiful she was, all the times he wished she was with him during dark and lonely nights spent in his room alone. A short sniff caught his attention and drew him out of his musings. He looked back at her, her eyes now wide and glassy.

“It’s a damn shame.” He said.

The door crashing open and both of their names being called did absolutely nothing to draw them away from each other’s stare and they remained there, Daryl’s words echoing in both of their heads. 

“Emily! Are you fucking deaf? Speeches! Come on!” Jen’s impatience was evident once Emily actually listened to the words that were being hissed at her from the door.

“I’ll-I’ll be right in.” She assured her with barely a look, too afraid to move her vision from Daryl in case she missed something. 

“I can’t lose you. Especially because of what we did. Please.” She begged, breaking her own rule.

Ever since she was a child she lived by a set of rules; never trust too easily, never expect anything from anyone and never beg. But this was a person who was worthy of her begging and she meant every single word. The thought alone of losing Daryl was too much to handle, it made her palms sweat and her chest constrict. Living without Daryl in her life would be akin to living in her own, personal version of hell. 

Daryl had no plans to live without her either. He’d performed the ultimate act of selflessness by walking her down the aisle and giving her away to another man, he had been forced to act graciously and as if his soul wasn’t falling away to nothing at that very moment. It was all for her, the only reason he did anything was for her. He was sober for her, he was addicted for her, he’d fight for her, get arrested for her and drop everything just to stop her crying. But then, there were all the things she did for him, the detoxes, the bail money, the stitching of his wounds and the unwavering pride she displayed at being his best friend. No, there was no way he could live without her.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Em.” He whispered.

“Do you promise?” She requested.

“Yeah.”

“No. That's not what we do. Cross your heart.” She demanded. “What comes next? Say it, Daryl.”

“Hope to die.” He replied.

* * *

Emily didn’t hear a single word of the best man’s speech or her new husbands. She listened, but only on the surface and none of the words sank in. In her lap, she fiddled with her wedding and engagement rings, turning them around her skin and creating an inflamed circle around her finger that perfectly signified the back and forth her and Daryl had been stuck in for the entire day. Her vision was not on Greg or his family, it was distracted, moving from the rings on her finger up to the empty seat that Daryl should have occupied next to Jen.

When Greg finished up his grand confessions of love and thanks to everyone including Emily, she dutifully acted as the emotional, lovestruck newly wed and presented all the typical facial expressions, even faking wiping a tear at one point and briefly wondering who she had become in the short space of a day.

“It’s your turn.” Greg whispered as he leaned close to her ear.

“My turn?” She questioned.

“You said you wanted to speak. It’s your turn.” he reminded her.

“Oh! Right! Of course!”

_Shit._

She got to her feet, smoothing the satin of her dress with her hands and tucking a stray, wavy gathering of hair behind her ear. Unable to shove the nerves away and finding her mind blank, she wished Daryl was in the room, knowing that even a quick glimpse of him would give her the confidence she needed to address the room full of rich intellectuals that she had married into. She inhaled, filling her lungs and raised her gaze to find Daryl lowering himself into his seat. He gave her a quick nod and picked up his drink.

“Um…Hi everybody. Uh, I apologise, I’m very nervous.” She admitted. Of all the faces that peered back at her, most of them appeared sympathetic to her shaky voice and trembling hands. “I know it’s a little unconventional for the bride to do a speech but this was the best way I could introduce myself to you all and thank you for being here at the same time. Uh…As some of you may have noticed, I don’t have any family here today. Just my two close friends. So, being welcomed into Greg’s family is like a dream come true. All of a sudden I have aunts and uncles and a sister and brother in law. Everybody I have met has been wonderful. I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. My and mother and I had nothing and I was raised in a home full of drugs, alcohol and violence. I never thought I would have a big family, or a nice home to live in. Greg, you gave me those things. But I don’t just love you for that. I love you for a million different reasons. The main one being for how you love me.”

She paused, seeing her new husbands’ eyes well up as he took her hand. She braved a glimpse in Daryl’s direction, to find him sat back in his seat, staring right at her.

It was everything he was painfully aware of for almost his entire life. All the things he couldn’t give her. Money, stability, a comfortable life with a big family, a wedding with over a hundred people in attendance and a decent car. He led a chaotic life, torn between the pull of illegal substances and violent situations, more often than not brought on by his brother. He didn’t have money or a nice home, he wasn’t educated like the majority of the room, nor did he own an expensive, vintage car. He often wondered why Emily even kept him around, why her loyalty to their friendship had never wavered. But questioning it only complicated things more and eventually he learned to just consider himself lucky. Still, the comparison of Emily’s new life with his own was just another detrimental reminder of all the things he couldn’t give her.

“I am happier than I have ever been. The man I married today has a good heart, a caring soul and a really good body due to the fact that he practically lives at the gym.” Emily continued. 

A rumble of polite laughter swept across the packed reception room, there had to be at least a hundred and twenty people in front of her, but she was only focused on one when she giggled nervously and wrung her hands.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I didn’t actually write a speech, I’m just winging this” She admitted. 

More laughter from around the room served to calm her and she felt Greg take her hand and squeeze it, encouraging her to continue. 

Daryl didn’t have anything against Greg except the usual jealousy he felt with Emily’s boyfriends. From the start he’d been polite and accepting of their friendship, eventually even offering his knowledge and skills as a doctor with detoxing Daryl after he’d fallen off the wagon and ended up beaten half to death. Emily searched the roads and bars in the pouring rain, driving in circles and fretting that she might never find him. Merle called that night, telling her that Daryl ‘took too much blow and threw a fit with the wrong guys’. Her alarm only increased when Merle explained that Daryl had been dragged from the bar he was in and no one knew where he was. It was three hours until Emily found him on the side of the road in a pool of his own blood. It took all her might and determination to drag him into her car and drive him to the colonial house she shared with Greg.

Daryl remembered it like it was yesterday, waking up draped in Egyptian cotton sheets with a concerned looking Greg looming over him, telling him he was lucky to be alive. From that, came a home-made detox programme and shed load of guilt every time he looked at Emily. He’d expected to feel more hatred towards Greg, but he didn’t appear to be a bad guy, at least not that Daryl could see. His intentions were good and his help, as shameful as it made him feel, was gratefully accepted. Emily was happy and that’s all that mattered to him. 

He took a large gulp of his bourbon and caught Jen’s eye from beside him. She glanced down into his glass and slid her drink towards him.

“You’re gonna need it more than me, Mister.” She said with a wink as Emily continued to speak.

“I’d like to thank my two friends who are here with me today. Jen, you are an amazing friend. No matter how many dumb ideas I come up with or whatever stupid decisions I make, I can always rely on you being there to help me pick up the pieces. I’m so glad that I stood up for you against those bullies in high school on the day we officially met. It was a day that I’ll never forget. I didn’t just gain a friend that day, I gained a teacher, a listening ear and a pillar of strength. You’re a goddess. Thank you for being my bridesmaid, I know you hate wearing dresses. You are my sister from another mister.”

Jen shot both hands up, thumbs risen to the ceiling as she chewed on a piece of candy from the middle of the table and blatantly ignored the tears streaming down her face. A most uncouth and typically Jen thing to do. Emily swallowed hard and proceeded with the final part of her speech.

“Another thing I have to thank my husband for, is understanding the incredibly precious friendship I have with the man that walked me down the aisle today.”

“Buckle up, here we go.” Jen commented.

“Shut up.” Daryl hissed back through his teeth.

“To my lifelong friend, Daryl. Ever since we were three years old, you have protected me and comforted me, encouraged me and built me back up when I was broken. You have kept my secrets and literally cleaned my wounds. You understand me more than I understand myself and you know me better than anyone ever will. I know you didn’t really give me away today, because I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. We’ve always watched over each other and that won’t change. You’ll always be my person and the very best friend I will ever have.” 

Daryl felt his muscles constrict and his bones freeze as almost everyone in the room looked at him. Emily had made no secret of where he was situated in the room and he was sure he could feel all one hundred and twenty pairs of eyes peering into his soul. Emily’s words were not all that unexpected to him, she had always been a very communicative person and had never hidden how fond of him she was as a friend. What did surprise him, were the words she mouthed to him when she finished up her her speech with a mention to the best man and Greg’s parents and finally sat down to the sound of an applause.

‘I love you’

* * *

Jen hated wearing dresses almost as much as she hated weddings in general. Believing they were overinflated fashion shows designed for the flaunting of money where everyone stood around feeling and looking uncomfortable, drinking too much to hide their discomfort and eating cake that none of them like. She wasn’t sure that weddings were even about love anymore, preferring herself to opt for a small ceremony at the local lake house, decorated with twinkling lights and attended by a very select few and the one person she would choose to spend her life with. Of course, she hadn’t met that person yet and wasn’t sure she ever would. But girly or not, she could still dream.

She couldn’t tell if Emily’s happiness was genuine or whether she’d just convinced herself it was the way life was meant to be. Marry money and be content with golf club socials and a polite relationship with the home help. It wasn’t for Jen, and she was surprised when Emily decided that it was, in fact, for her. As her friend floated around arm in arm with her new, rich and successful husband, Jen wondered what Daryl made of it all. A man of few words, she anticipated that he would find the whole thing rather tiresome and would at some point remove himself from the clinking of champagne glasses and drunk relatives in favour of more subdued surroundings.

The night of the wedding, she’d located him in a bar on the other side of the building, supping his way through a bottle of whiskey and with a face so downcast she thought he might just get up and go home at one point. But, he stayed and performed his best friend duties and gained more respect from Jen than she would ever be comfortable to admit.

With the wedding still in full swing, Jen plonked herself down into a chair opposite Daryl in the same quiet bar she had found him in the night before. She ordered a coffee and reclined in her velvet, plush chair, hiking up her dress and kicking off her heels. Daryl’s eyes flickered to the seat beside him, where finally, she rested her weary and reddened feet. 

When a waiter brought her coffee over, she thanked him with a nod and checked her surroundings before delving into her clutch bag to reveal a silver hip flask. Daryl raised an eyebrow when she topped up her coffee with the liquid from the flask and swiftly replaced it back into it’s pink, sequinned home. 

“It’s like you just stole somebody’s dress and rolled in here from an alley” Daryl expressed with a shake of his head.

“They don’t have the cheap shit I like here. I’d have to sell my car to drink the fancy crap they keep behind these bars. Why do you think I've been stealing everybody else's liquor all night?!”

He huffed and brought his glass to his lips. It was his fifth strong drink in three hours and he was starting to feel the familiar dulling of his mind. But he cared little for how he appeared at a social event full of people he would never see again. All but Emily, that was. If he was honest with himself, he would have been highly intoxicated hours ago if he didn’t have such a huge, earth shattering secret to keep. 

Jen sniffed her coffee and jutted her lower lip out as she nodded in approval. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes and revelled in a taste she’d looked forward to all day.

“That’s the good shit.” She sighed, placing the drink on the table. “Thought I’d find you here.”

She knew he wouldn’t answer, his face was too pensive and troubled. She watched him drum the fingers of one hand on the tables shiny surface. His fingertips left smudges that quickly vanished into the air like all the things he wanted to confess before they were concealed and pushed to the back of his mind. Jen knew Daryl well enough to trace his low mood right back to the one thing he’d ever cared about; Emily. Tactics to get Daryl talking were never her forte, Jen was direct, inpatient with overthinkers and much preferred people to just be upfront than worrying about who’s feelings would be hurt. Daryl sometimes thought that was why he liked her; he always knew where he stood. Until she forced him to discuss topics he really would rather not. 

“Should have said something.” She commented.

His eyes raised to hers, questioning but saying nothing.

“Y’know. ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace?’ You should have spoken. Everybody would have lost their god damn minds, but maybe you wouldn’t be sat here like a moody teenager.”

He stared at her, trying to conceive how she got away with being so blunt sometimes. His hand stopped moving on the table, now creating a small area of condensation under his palm. 

“You serious right now?” He asked.

“C’mon, Daryl. You two are soulmates. Like Jenny and Forrest Gump.” She suggested with a flick of her bright red hair. Daryl appeared unimpressed when he picked up his glass again and downed another gulp.

“I don’t believe in no soulmates. That’s romance novel bullshit.”

“You read romance novels?” Jen jested with smirk.

He shot her a mildly amused look. His ice-cold façade now beginning to thaw. She always managed to chip away at his seemingly impenetrable, hostile shell and somehow he’d find himself smiling along with her and finding her teasing and mockery annoyingly amusing.

“If you don’t, maybe you should. Might teach you a thing or two.” She continued.

“What, like how reality is nothin’ like that?” He shot back.

“You’re such a cynic.” She remarked.

“I’m a realist.” He corrected.

“That’s the same fuckin’ thing, Daryl.” She retorted, holding her coffee up and tilting it to him.

He replayed her suggestion over and over in his mind. _Should have said something._ What exactly would he have said? Would he stand up, alone and exposed and declare his undying love for the woman about to marry the wealthy doctor in front of a room full of people he didn’t know? Not a slight chance of that. He couldn’t be sure that a marriage to Greg wasn’t what Emily really wanted. He couldn’t be sure of anything and that was reason enough to keep his mouth shut and stay away. He leaned towards Jen across the table, beckoning her closer with a finger. She complied and shuffled her seat closer on the slippery carpet.

“You really sittin’ there tellin’ me I should have fucked up the biggest day of her damn life because you believe in some Disney idea of how life should be?” He asked.

Unperturbed by his irritated tone, she pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. 

“It’s not the biggest day of her life. The day she marries you will be the biggest day of her life.” She said casually. Daryl instantly sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Stop it, Jen. Ya ain’t helpin’.”

“I am fucking sick of this!” She snapped, thudding her hand on the table and causing a ripple effect which meant the salt and pepper shakers jiggled against one another and tainted coffee spilled over the edges onto the surface. Shocked faces turned to them and the bartender angrily pointed to a sign above the bar that read ‘Quiet area’. “You love her. She loves you. All you have to do is tell one another!" 

It was never that simple. He’d spent many a reflective moment wishing it was. Emily was a free spirit that bounced from one relationship to the next and only ever declared that Daryl was her friend. He thought he’d seen glimmers of hope shine through in the form of a touch that lingered for a little too long, a fierce performance of protectiveness over him or moving that little bit closer to him when she looked into his blue eyes. But it was never enough and he knew he would never act unless he was sure. In the hotel room that day, she couldn’t have been clearer about her intentions and it was the clarity that Daryl needed to encourage him into a situation he had dreamed about for as far back as he could remember. But he had still fallen short of actually telling her how he felt, which was too tall an order when she was twenty minutes away from getting married to someone else. 

“You don’t know nothin’.” He warned with a quiet rumble.

“I know she goes to you first. I’m her friend too but you are her everything. I know that when you lose control and get all fucked up falling off the wagon, it’s her that picks you up, locks you in a room and detoxes you. I also know there are two reasons you get yourself so fucked up in the first place. Your childhood and her.” She explained.

If it came from anyone else, Daryl’s temper would have snapped and the table would have been launched halfway across the room. But Jen was an exception. Her brutal honesty was with good intentions, it was the way she worked and although it took him a while to get used to it, he now understood it.

“She’s married to Greg.” He dismissed

“Oh, Greg Schmeg.” Jen scoffed.

“I’m goin’ to bed.” He announced, sliding his chair back and collecting his glass. He halted when he found Jen stood up and blocking his path, her hand firmly clamped around his forearm. 

“I see it. I see how you look at her.” She warned

“Oh yeah? How’s that exactly?”

It was a fatal error on his part. It was never wise to call Jen’s bluff, he would always come off worse and usually shot down from his lofty height of believing he was right. He swallowed hard and used the split second in between his words and hers to prepare himself. She stepped closer, ensuring none of the other visitors to the bar could hear her.

“Like you want to dry her tears, cook her meals and fuck the shit out of her” she whispered

He glares at her thoughtfully, feeling like she could see straight through him to the events that transpired before the ceremony.

“Leave it alone, Jen.” He requested, pulling his arm from her grasp and skirting around her. But she only growled in frustration, following him out into the lobby like a bird pecking at his head.

“I’m sorry.” She blurted out loudly. Daryl stopped walking and looked over his shoulder.

“I'm kind of drunk and emotional and I just love you both and I want you to be happy.”

As she spoke, her arms flapped carelessly by her sides, making her entire outfit seem slightly ridiculous. Her classy, dusty pink, chiffon dress actually did wonders for her curvaceous figure and it was safe to say that she’d never looked more feminine in her life. She didn’t hate it altogether, rather she just couldn’t adjust to such a draft around her legs. 

“I know.” Daryl nodded.

Jen backed up, taking her cue to leave before she made the situation worse. She smiled at him as she stepped backwards into the entrance of the bar.

“Hey, Whitey” He called out, using her nickname coined from her last name. She halted. “Ya look beautiful, like a real girl.”

Jen laughed shyly, her cheeks tinting pink in an extremely rare show of sensitivity and vulnerability.

“Thanks, Dixon.” She grinned. “Asshole.”

* * *

When Daryl hit the button for the elevator, he contemplated having not told Emily where he was, that he was calling it a night or attempting to say goodnight to her. His energy levels were depleting and he didn’t know if he could attempt one more fake smile and endure the sight of her in that satin dress any longer. But she was his friend and he cared about her, loved her.

He turned away from the elevators and strode towards the main hall, hearing a ‘ping’ from behind him and ignoring it. The double doors opened before he could reach them, loud, big band music filled the foyer and Greg emerged with Emily attached to his arm. Daryl almost skidded to a halt as if he’d come up against a brick wall.

Greg, seemingly a little worse for wear after one too many drinks stumbled over his own feet and began to laugh hysterically as he clung to Emily, who was staring at Daryl like a deer trapped in some headlights.

“Um. Greg?” She asked. He blinked wearily at her a crooked smile plastered on his face. “Go wait for me on that couch over there. I’m just going to talk to Daryl.”

In his drunken haze, Greg quickly accepted his instructions and obediently headed for the couch in question, falling face-first onto it when he stubbed his toe on the rug beneath. Emily sucked in a deep breath and looked at Daryl, skirting around him so his back was facing her inebriated husband.

“What you did for me today, it means everything to me. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.” She expressed sincerely, her light blue eyes commanding his attention. He hated it, how he couldn’t ever tear himself away from them. They were striking, unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

“Ya don’t have to.” He uttered.

“I know it must have taken a lot for you to do it.” She admitted with a pang of guilt.

“It wasn’t easy. But like I said before, I ain’t givin’ you away to nobody.” He recalled “Been me n’ you for years. Nothin’s gonna change just ‘cause he’s in the picture.”

Her lips were curled into a smile but it didn’t run any deeper than that. She didn’t feel like smiling on the inside. Her turmoil like a thick, black cloud of smoke filling her lungs and choking her. She couldn’t stand in front of him any longer 

“Ok, well. I better go. Goodnight, Daryl.” She offered.

“Night, Emily.”

The use of her full name was unusual for Daryl. He only ever called her by the shortened version, ‘Em’. ‘Emily’ was only used when he was angry with her, or when he felt detached from her and in that moment, he’d never felt further from her.

She stepped past him and he gave into his impulses. It was a risky move, one that Greg could have easily seen had he been with the land of the living and not snoring on the lobby couch. Daryl looked down at her wrist in his hand and then raised his vision to her face. She didn’t resist when he eased her closer to him, the side of his face level with hers. She closed her eyes and fought with the urge to cry, her eyes hot and threatening and her throat closing up. He was taking advantage and he couldn't have cared less. He wasn't going to let her get away without having said it back.

“I love you too.”


	4. The Shack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to put a **BIG TRIGGER WARNING** right here. This chapter contains descriptions of violence against children. Please do not read this if it is likely to trigger or upset you.  
> Bit of an emotional one. This story is not one for the emotionally fragile, that's for sure! I have updated the tags to accommodate this

**Then**

No one ever thinks it will happen to them. They read about it in local newspapers, discuss the tragedy of it all over dinner parties and attend funerals memorial services. Everyone talks about the ones left behind, the boys with no mother. So young. So vulnerable and impressionable. Who will take care of them now? Oh, but did you not hear? Their father is still alive. At least they have someone to watch over them. Or, that’s the way it may seem to the outside world.

When something as horrific as a house fire claims a victim, people usually rally around and create a network of support. Some bring food and flowers, some offer donations and some merely their sincerest condolences. But it was not the case when Merle and Daryl Dixon lost their mother to a fire caused by a cigarette that ignited her bedroom as if it were a bonfire on the 4th July. No, there were no knocks at the door, no deliveries of pre-cooked food and lilies. But there certainly was one thing; talk. Daryl, at the tender age of six years old, heard every word as it was whispered when he passed hushed conversations on street corners and at the store.

_‘She didn’t do anything for those boys. She barely left the house’._

_‘They’re better off without her’_

_‘I hear she drank all of their money anyway.’_

He heard every judgemental and poisonous word on the lips of those that pretended to be perfect while they went about their lives filled with secrets and lies, placing face value and outward appearances at the top of their priorities. Daryl knew as he grew up what real life was, what it was to struggle and look life dead in the eye and see it for what it was.

Even with only 6 years under his belt, Daryl was intuitive, especially about people. He watched as his father’s behaviour barely changed and whatever sorrow he did feel was quickly drowned in a bottle of whiskey or smoked through a crack pipe. Once the sorrow was saturated or dispelled into a cloud of regret, all he was left with was the same vehement rage that he’d displayed as far back as Daryl could remember. Merle bore the brunt of it. The older, stronger boy with the ‘suck it up, buttercup attitude’ would grit his teeth and shake the tears from his eyes when the searing pain of the birch tree switch lashed across his skin. He endured, stuffed his fury down at the sheer injustice of it all and found that his unfocused and broken soul craved the sweet dulling of drugs and sex and violence that gave him the control back. Or, did it? It was for the boy. He knew that much. He had to protect his baby brother at all costs and as long as the brutality was aimed at him, the kid would be safe.

But Daryl was a child that knew everything and said nothing. He was a silent observer. Being aware of such strong emotion at such a young age, he was more than aware that if he did breathe a word, his brother would unleash all kinds of holy hell on him. Far from wanting Merle to be mad at him, Daryl simply pretended to have seen and heard nothing. He never received any help to deal with his mother’s passing. His school did nothing. The community did nothing. The closest church that held the funeral did nothing. Until one person did. Emily.

* * *

Batteries. They were out of batteries that day and the TV remote wouldn’t work. Emily’s father had spent over an hour trying to fix the panel on the side of the set to allow him to use the buttons to switch the channels. But they’d been broken beyond repair during a domestic dispute in which he’d ripped the TV from the wall bracket and thrown it at Emily’s mother the previous night. He paused as he left the house that day, leaning over Emily and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then, he barrelled through the door and was never seen again.

She didn’t remember much about him, just what she’d been told by the local drunks when her mother took her to the park so she could sit and drink whiskey in the sun. The man that gave her free chocolate at the seven eleven knew him and said he had a photo of Emily in his wallet. He was also depicted in the one, single photograph she had of him. He had bright blonde hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders and a strong jawline. A handsome man by anyone’s standards and it had been heard more than once that Emily was his double. She didn’t like it when it was said within earshot of her mother, who would shoot her disgusted looks and hurl insults at her.

Violence was commonplace in the Baker household but Emily’s father never raised his hand to her. Not once. Her mother made a point of regaling to anyone that would listen how he thought of his daughter as a little angel and she could do no wrong. When she was under the influence or enraged from withdrawal, she would ramble over and over that he never loved her, that he only loved his stupid kid that sucked up all the attention. By age six, it was obvious to Emily that it was her fault daddy left and when her mother found a box of brand new batteries under her bed, obviously stolen from the local store, she had screamed at her with an unapparelled rage and demanded to know why she was trying to get her into trouble. Emily, a small, waif of a child with more scars than any six-year-old should have, peered up at her through a swollen and bloodshot eye and croaked out a quiet reply;

“Daddy might come back if we have batteries in the house.”

* * *

The shack was in the middle of the woodland that separated the Dixon and Baker houses. A mile and a half of uneven ground and thick trees with streams and wildlife aplenty. Merle had come across the dilapidated and rickety structure one day and brought his baby brother out to see it. Together, they re-build the frame and made it somewhat watertight by adding a roof and a door. The rotten, wooden walls were replaced with panels sought from a nearby building site. Merle made Daryl promise never to tell a soul where the materials were from, or their father would cancel his birth certificate for thieving. The real reason for the Shacks existence was for Merle’s peace of mind. He had to know his kid brother had a safe place to go. Far from the horrors their house regularly presented. Somewhere that would stay safe if and when Merle’s plan to leave and join the military was to happen.

It was here that Emily first learned of the loss of Daryl’s mother by the dim, flickering light of a lantern with the wind howling through the gaps in the walls and the skin on her arms breaking out into goose pimples under her jacket. A single tear rolled down his pale cheek and she shuffled closer to him. Her oversized, ragged coat with patches sewn into it brushed against his bare arm. He shivered, the thin T-shirt he wore doing nothing to protect him against the harsh night-time temperatures of the woods. She lifted a grey, threadbare blanket from the floor beside them and covered his legs and arms.

Daryl’s relationship with his mother was an altogether softer one than he had with his father. She rarely moved from her bed some days, consumed by mind-numbing sedatives, a deep depression and an alcohol addiction. Still, she liked when he would curl up beside her and sleep with his head on her lap. She stroked his silky hair and regaled him with stories about a man that lived closed to her as a child. He built his own house and kept chickens and made furniture. He made her a desk and a chair that she used to draw pictures of birds that perched on the clothesline beyond her window. She told him that one day, if he wanted, he could build something of his own and be whatever he wanted to be.

“People say that it’s better that Momma is gone.” He sniffed beside Emily who, more than anyone, knew the pain of losing a parent, be it through death or disappearance, the sting of the agony was just the same.

“Don’t listen” She told him. “They don’t know. They don’t know nothin’.”

A small nod was what followed. It was the first time he’d breathed a word about the loss of his mother, still raw from only happening three nights before. Even Merle expressed that they shouldn’t talk about it, that it would only make things worse and make Pa mad. He’d made Daryl go to school and as a result he’d heard the whispers and judgment of others. Emily had been kept home while a gash in her forehead healed which meant that Daryl was unable to seek the company of his best friend in the halls of their school. He was alone without her and that was the most frightening thing. But eventually he’d found her in their haven. The one place where they were safe from the perils of the outside world. From the fractured pieces that made up their homes and the evil that others spoke.

“I miss her.” Daryl whimpered.

“I know.” Emily said “I miss my daddy, too. But it’s gonna be alright.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and there they remained; two, tiny, broken souls slowly gluing each other’s pieces back together one bit at a time. A painstaking but necessary process.

* * *

The four years after the Death of Daryl’s mother saw both Emily and Daryl growing up a lot faster than other children of their age. Their unbreakable bond was further cemented with each year that passed and each mountain they climbed. Together, they grew and became defiant and brave, leaning on one another when life threw up yet another situation that a child should never have to experience. Through it all, they learned and adapted, became wise beyond their years and when they reached ten years old, their friendship was stronger than ever.

The shack collapsed and was reinforced twice in that time and the second occasion meant it also gained more floor space and extra insulation. Daryl and Emily used it almost every day, one or the other using it for homework, somewhere peaceful to sleep or as a safe zone when the violence inside their homes became too much to bear. With Merle being the only one with knowledge of its existence, they felt safe enough to lock out the world and treat it as their own, small sanctuary in the middle of the woods.

A rainy Sunday afternoon meant Emily was sprawled out on the makeshift, wooden couch that stretched from one wall to the other at the end of the tiny room. Topped with old couch cushions and blankets, it made for the perfect, quiet place for drawing. In her lap she held a sketch pad on which she shaded the wing of a bird in flight. Emily’s art teacher once told her that she had a gift for drawing and that she should consider focusing on it and getting as much practice in as possible. She’d even offered her a brand-new sketchpad as encouragement. When she’d gone home that day and told her mother, she was met with a sneer and a remark about how she could draw as many pictures as she wanted, she would never amount to anything anyway. But Emily persevered from then on. In secret she drew like there was no tomorrow, like the only way she could communicate was through a series of images that held her heart and her soul and an escapism so profound that she only really knew peace when she was drawing. Or, when she was with Daryl.

The door flew open and rain wafted in on a strong lick of wind. Daryl stumbled inside, shutting the world out behind him and slumping onto the cushion covered floor. In the middle, was an upturned wooden box, once used as a vegetable crate and now doubled as a small table on which they played snap and board games. The walls boasted posters of rock bands stolen from Merle’s room, mainly to help cover the thin cracks in the walls and create an illusion of a real living room. They had a shelves on which they kept candles and lanterns for light during the night hours and a baseball bat for protection that, somehow, Daryl had stolen from their school.

His chest was heaving as if he’d been running through the trees with urgency, his thin, blue T-shirt was ripped and stained and his eyes avoided her gaze. On the side of his head, over his temple, she could see an angry, red mark along with a split in his lower lip.

“Do I need the box?” she asked.

He nodded and sat back, trying to regulate his breathing now he was behind the safety of the shack’s door and in the presence of his best friend and the one person that knew, beyond any reasonable doubt, how the feelings the churned in his stomach were eating away at him.

Emily sprang up and grabbed a tin box from the shelf. Inside, she found some gauze and antiseptic spray. She said nothing as she set to work cleaning the wound on his lip and he winced slightly but she just gently placed a hand on his forehead to steady him while she finished up cleaning it. She then retrieved another piece of gauze, realising that on the side of his head was in fact, a large wound that was beginning to bruise. Daryl wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of the clear liquid in the bottle that she used to soak the gauze

“Close your eye.” She instructed as she gently smoothed it over the edge of his blackening eye socket.

“What is that stuff?” He demanded as he tried to flinch away. Emily clamped a hand down on his shoulder, telling him to keep still.

“Witch Hazel. It helps with bruises.” She informed him, feeling smart and satisfied at her discovery.

“Where’d you get it?” He asked through his teeth. Pain stabbed at the entire area around his eye and he wondered what kind of state he’d be in if his father had managed to get a hold of the glass ash tray he was aiming for when he chose his fist instead.

“Stole it from the drug store.” Emily disclosed casually. One of her shoulders lifted in a half shrug before she squinted at the wound and tried to figure out if she’d covered it in its entirety. Daryl suddenly pulled away from her, his eyes meeting hers in a blaze. He was angry. Angry at her.

“You shouldn’t be stealin’ stuff, Em!” He cried; his voice full of surprise more than anything else.

Emily wasn’t scared of much. In her short time on the earth she had endured enough to make her hardy and resilient but she also felt safe in the knowledge that no matter how much Daryl ranted and raved about something, no matter how much he cursed or threw things around, he would never lay a finger on her.

“Shut up, like you don’t.” She scoffed. Daryl never made it a secret that he was no model student at school, nor was he a decent upstanding member of society at ten years old. His lack of role models that stayed inside of the law meant that while he knew the difference between wrong and right, he rarely cared much about what side his actions fell on. Every store in town knew of him as a prolific shoplifter and he had even been known to deliver drugs on merle’s behalf on the odd occasion. Emily knew about it all, of course and kept his secrets well-guarded. As did he, with hers.

“You’ll get in trouble!” He protested, once again moving out of her reach. The pure white gauze with its chemical laden stench hovered in the air, expelling the odour between them and filling the tiny room.

“I’m always in trouble, Daryl. Hold still, dammit.”

Emily was no saint either and often followed in Daryl’s footsteps without him even knowing. But she was better at covering her tracks and was more of a meticulous planner. That was when her natural impulsivity wasn’t getting her a bad reputation as a rude little girl who was destructive and a menace around town. It ignited her mother’s hatred of her and only earned her harder slaps and vicious words.

Since they were old enough to know that they needed to prepare for such situations, they had collected a variety of useful items in a tin to help with the times when either one of them would turn up, out of the blue and sometimes at odd hours with cuts and bruises after being beaten by their dysfunctional and drug addicted parents. During the summer time breaks from school, both of them would spend time at the library, reading up on first aid and educating themselves on how to deal with the aftermath of such explosive fits of rage at the hands of adults that should know better. Neither one of them wanted to tell anyone official about what they endured, the prospect of being split up and sent to group homes striking fear into their hearts. As long as they were together, they could get though it.

“Are you ok?” She asked after seeing the desperately sad look in his eyes. They were darker, the blue deeper when his mood was low. She was young, with a whole world of things she was still yet to learn. But she knew everything there was to know about Daryl, including how to read him when he was saying nothing at all.

“Merle’s gone.” Daryl mumbled.

He took hold of the soft, white cushion against his eye doused with the foul-smelling liquid and held it there himself. Emily shrank back, her home-made hair cut obscuring her vision. Her uneven, mousy brown bangs fell across her eyes and she flicked her head and messily swiped the hair away with one hand.

“What do you mean, gone? You mean to Jail?” She questioned.

“Not this time. He took off.” He sighed “His stuff is gone. Been sayin’ for years he was goin’ to the Army. I thought he was just lyin’.”

Emily settled opposite him and crossed her legs under her. He tugged the sleeves of her thin, black, hooded jacket over her hands and balled them into fists, wringing them distractedly in her lap.

“Your daddy’s mad” She stated, starkly aware of the effect Merle leaving unannounced would have on the Dixon household. Now, Daryl’s father had no one to go and fetch him beer and smokes, no one to do his dirty work for him. No one to sit around and get lit with and one would think; no one to use as a punchbag. But it was apparent to Emily from the amount of time’s she’d spent patching Daryl up over the past year, that he’d already replaced Merle in that department.

“Yeah, real mad.” Daryl mumbled sadly.

She stretched her arms out, her hands appearing at the ends of her sleeves and taking the gauze from his grasp. She picked up the lid for the bottle and slowly began to screw it back on as she spoke.

“It’s OK. We can stay here. I’ll stay with you.”

Daryl attempted to find a comfortable position when he leaned back against the wall but winced every time his back hit the wooden surface behind him. Emily quickly selected one of the many scatter cushions around them and crawled around the upturned, wooden crate to him. She delicately slid the pillow between him and the wall, easing him back gently. She could tell he had other injuries, quite possibly on his back, but wasn’t up to admitting it just yet. She let it slide, confident that at some point, he’d let her know.

She reached over to the couch she’d previously occupied, plucking her sketchbook from the seat and flipping the pages to reveal a shaded drawing of a bird. Squinting over at the couch once more, she spotted her pencil and managed to grab a hold of it before continuing the task of adding depth to the bird’s wings.

“What’s that?” Daryl wanted to know.

“A bird.” She hummed. Her eyes didn’t leave the page and her tongue slowly began to emerge at the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. “I sometimes I wish I was a bird. I’d fly away from here.”

Emily had liked birds and wildlife from a young age and it was one of the things her and Daryl had bonded over. Being from a family of keen hunters that killed mainly for sport, Daryl was different and only agreed with hurting wildlife when there was no other choice. Merle had taught him how to track from the moment he could walk and he had also gained a wealth of knowledge about not just animals, insects and birds but also about plants and foliage that could be found in the woods. He shared his familiarity with the woods with Emily and in turn, she listened with great interest and asked a million and one questions. It made him feel important, like he actually had something to give. From what she had gained from Daryl and information she’d read in books, Emily’s interest in birds spiralled and she often cut up magazines, sticking images on her bedroom walls. To her, Birds signified freedom and independence and she wished that one day, she could just open her wings and fly when things got tough.

“Then I wish I was one too. So, I could could go with ya” Daryl expressed thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t go without you anyway, idiot” She remarked with a smirk “What bird would you be?”

“I dunno. An Eagle maybe. What about you?”

He remembered how his mother told him that she used to draw birds while sitting at the table the nice man who’d built his own house made for her. How she’d smiled when she recalled the memory. It was the same way Emily smiled while she chose a bird that she would like to be. He decided not to disclose the connection, preferring instead to keep it instead, close to his heart where the two females in his life shared a similar passion. Now one was gone, she was still somehow living on, in the form of Emily Baker.

“An Artic Tern. They can fly almost three times the distance from the earth to the moon. That’s a long way and if it flies that far for that long, surely it can go anywhere it wants.” She mused.

“Sounds tiring.” He muttered. Then it occurred to him; he didn’t know the reason why Emily was even there. He’d been so wrapped up in his own situation that he’d forgotten to ask. “So, you okay? Why you out here anyways?”

She glanced up at him when she shifted against the wall. She slowly moved the sketch pad from her lap and sighed deeply. A troubled expression swept across her face and Daryl felt a sting of guilt for not asking sooner.

“My mom’s new boyfriend is over. I don’t like him.” She admitted in a low and mumbled voice.

“Can’t be as bad as the last one.” Daryl offered. He was met with a wrinkled nose and a disgusted look as she curled her lip and shuddered.

“This one smells like peanuts and cigarettes and keeps laughing about asking me to sit on his lap. Then him and my mom go to her room and they’re real…loud.” She disclosed.

His back was thrumming with pain. That’s what being thrown against a wall could do to a kid. The wind had been knocked out of him as he crawled across the carpet towards the front door, his heart dropping when he felt hands grip his ankles and pull him backwards. He shook his head at the memory and tried to focus of offering Emily some semblance of a distraction. A smile, he wanted her to smile.

“Want me to saw halfway through the legs on her bed so they fall right through it next time?” He suggested with a painful shrug.

The sound of her giggle instantly injected some relief into him and he mirrored her wide grin. He hated it when Emily was sad, even worse; when she cried. It was a rare sight now they were slightly older; she was braver now and she said there was no point in crying over anything much. But when it did happen, it made Daryl angry and he couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like he was angry at her, more at whatever had made her cry and his default reaction to most things was anger. Merle said it, his teachers said it, even the lady at the library said it. The worst part was that when Emily cried, it was almost like he could literally feel her pain in his chest.

“Em” He said, watching her resume her sketching and tilting her head to one side to evaluate her progress. She looked up at him expectantly. “Don’t fly away.”

“I won’t.” She smiled. But he was no longer doing the same. His smile had faded and he was deadly serious. He couldn’t do this thing called life if he didn’t have Emily right by his side.

“Promise?” He asked.

She used a hand to draw a cross over her chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Hope to die.”


	5. The Locket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for comments and kudos and hits on a fic that I only ever post because it's cathartic. I now have a full (partially true to life) plotline for this angst-ridden story and it still holds a special place in my heart. The fact that anyone likes this one means a lot to me <3
> 
> Two short chapters to keep things moving...

_**Now** _

Greg’s drunken touch sent shockwaves of disgust through her and guilt sat heavy in her stomach. She didn’t want to feel the way she did, irritated and inconvenienced by the man she’d married only hours before. But Daryl’s touch had felt so inconceivably right, unparalleled and electric and the chemistry between them was powerful enough to render her unable to think about anything else. When Greg kissed her neck and ran his hands down the front of her body, she recoiled, pulling away from him and complaining that she had consumed too much alcohol and had a headache. Having indulged far too much himself, he didn’t protest when she announced she wanted to run a bath and take in the days events.

But inside the bathroom, Emily switched on the faucets and covered by the sound of the running water, sank to the floor. Her white, satin dress pooling around her as she sobbed uncontrollably with her silver locket gripped in her hand. Her knuckles were white and she only held it tighter when she thought of the man on the other side of the wall and how devastated he would be if he ever found out what had transpired between Emily and her best friend in the hour before they said their vows.

It was the most treasured present anyone had ever bought her and it wasn’t even for anything special. Not a birthday, not for graduating, not for passing her driving test or some other milestone achievement. It’s was simply just ‘because’ and it took Emily a good few minutes to understand that notion with Daryl peering over a textbook at her nervously from his bed after she found the velvet box on her pillow after school one day.

They’d been living together. Cooped up in Daryl’s room after Emily’s mother threw her out. Two teenagers struggling with the trauma of their violent upbringings as well as the process of growing up. Their beds were at opposite ends of the room, separated by a wooden partition she’d found at a thrift store that didn’t quite reach to the middle of the room.

He’d placed the box there for her to find and waited with his head buried in a science book as she delicately plucked the lid from the top and peered inside. His heart hammered and he couldn’t think of another time when he’d been so nervous. He hoped she didn’t think him to be weird or making some kind of move on her because as much as he wanted to, her friendship was far too precious to him. She’d smiled from ear to ear when she eventually figured out that the random gift was from him and traced her fingertips over the intricate engraved pattern on the front of the silver locket.

All at once, she was bounding across the room as if the floor was sprung and she barrelled into him, knocking the book flying and wrapping her limbs around him. She buried her face in his chest and when he regained the ability to fill his lungs his hands found their way around her back and rested there. She was the only one he’d ever let show him such physical affection. He didn’t tense when she touched him as he did with anyone else, he was tactile and adoring of her because it was Emily. His Emily. She knew his scars and his pain because she wore them too and from that formed a deep understanding and an unwavering trust between them.

“Why?” She’d breathed against the thin T-shirt covering his chest.

“Because you ain’t smiled in a long time.” Was his only answer.

On the cold, hard bathroom tiles, Emily turned the locket over in her hand. The italic writing on the back shimmering under the spotlight beaming down on her.

_Cross my heart. Hope to die._

She’d been there for so long that she’d lost the feeling in her legs from being crumpled up on the floor, gripping the trinket like a vice and wondering why her world seemed to have crashed around her. She needed Daryl, she needed his words and his arms, she needed the tender way he kissed the top of her head when she was upset and locked in his embrace. But she didn’t have Daryl, she had a man that she thought would change her life for the better, a genuine, loving and good man who doted on her. But something was missing, she wasn’t happy and the creeping dread inside her told her that she would have no choice but to accept things for what they were.

Try as she might, it was almost impossible to convince herself that she’d done the right thing and that what happened with Daryl was a one off, a mistake and that Greg was the man she truly loved. Putting her emotional pain down to feeling guilty for cheating on him on the biggest day of their lives was the only way she was going to be able to move forward. Because to acknowledge anything else, was soul shattering.

Greg had always accepted Daryl after initially thinking it strange that he and Emily were so close. He’d never had such a strong bond with another person before, let alone a female friend, but Greg saw the protective nature in Daryl when he was around Emily and noticed how her entire being seemed to light up in his presence. He could only hope that he made her that happy and when she’d agreed to marry him, he thought he’d achieved his goal. His love for Emily was too strong for him to let her friendship with Daryl stand in his way and so he attempted to become friendly with him himself. Usually, his efforts were met with minimal response from Daryl despite him always being polite and respectful to his best friends’ husband. Greg’s career choice meant that his expertise was used to aid Daryl through a damaging drug habit. He’d buried his head in the sand, declared that things were not as bad as they seemed and played down the fact that he’d broken bones, been arrested and got himself hospitalised all in the name of the white powder that was cocaine. Daryl’s vices extended to other substances but cocaine was his mistress. Reliable and readily available. Greg’s help was only accepted by Daryl for one reason and one reason only; Emily.

A whole room of faces watched with smiles. Emily had been dancing with Greg, their first dance when she caught Daryl’s eye in the crowd. He showed little emotion but the way he stared at her like she was a rare being, some celestial anomaly made her feel like the most special person in the world. She’d wanted him to cut in when everyone else joined the dance floor and ask Greg if he minded stepping aside for one song. But along with the intense admiration in his eyes was pain. Pain caused by what had happened in the hotel room and she knew he wouldn’t dare risk getting so close to her when her husband was in such near proximity just in case it was written in both of their eyes. The ultimate betrayal.

Jen, showing no regard for tradition, stepped in instead and politely requested that Greg let her have the dance. Greg graciously offered her hand and happily left them to it. As they danced, Jen had asked her three times if she was ok, only to be met with a short nod and to see her eyes dart back to Daryl in the crowd. Not to her husband, to Daryl.

Steam from the bathtub now filled the room. As she wiped tears from her face in the bathroom mirror, she noticed a small, tender to the touch bruise at the base of her neck near her shoulder. Oval in shape and turning a dark shade of red, she held her breath when she realised that it was not from Greg. It was the mark of a passionate tryst. A time never to be spoken about, a bite from Daryl that was a reminder of the time her best friend made love to her in a way that no other man ever had. She questioned the feeling of pride she experienced when she touched the small bruise. It was like a trophy. Her trophy and her triumph. His mark left behind as a reminder of how utterly delicious it had been. She traced her fingertips over it, grateful that her hair covered it well enough but she worried that Greg might see it and explaining such a thing would prove to be extremely difficult. She had to hide it, no matter how much she wished it would remain there forever.

Upon leaving the bathroom, she wished Greg would be asleep already and when she stood at the foot of the bed and craned her neck to see his face, she breathed a sigh of relief. He was immersed in an alcohol induced slumber and her eyes scanned his body. He was an attractive man with a handsome face, bright eyes and a body that attracted a lot of attention at the gym. Greg was never short of women that showed interest in him and at first, Emily considered herself lucky to have even been on his radar. But after being with Daryl, he no longer stirred a desire in her. One, forbidden encounter had destroyed any semblance of want for him. The terrain of his body was different to Daryl’s and the flashbacks in her mind were almost becoming a fantasy. Her attraction to Daryl was that strong, it was obvious that from that day onwards, she would physically be with Greg but in her mind and even when her eyes were open, she would always imagine that he was Daryl.


	6. The Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second short chapter of the night. Hope you enjoy! Chapters will most likely get longer from here on out with the odd smaller one here and there.

_**Then.** _

Emily was a grown up 14-year old, as was Daryl. Having to grow up so fast was part of surviving the abuse and trauma that plagued their young lives. They were wise beyond their years and skilled at things no teenager should need to worry about. In the rickety haven of the shack, such skills and knowledge were put to good use in the care of wounds and the exchange of turmoil and it was sealed with an unspoken promise; none of it was to go beyond the door of the shack.

Emily had been alone in the wooden room for around to hours after darkness had fallen. Home wasn’t home, it hadn’t been for as far back as she could remember and after so long spent running away from it, the shack had become more to her than just four walls whistling with the breeze and a door that kept falling from its hinges.

She was drawing, using the time to indulge in her creative escapism when the door flew open and Daryl lumbered inside, his hands coated in blood and his face covered in sweat. She dropped her pencil and pad when he dropped to his knees and fought to catch his breath. Saying nothing, he slowly looked up at her and she could see the agony in his eyes. Her heart dropped.

Jagged, bright red lines trickled along the backs of his arms and over his palms. Emily knew this was bad and got up from her cushioned corner, she leaned down to him, taking his hands in her own and ignoring the blood that transferred from his skin, a warm coating, the reality of Daryl’s life. Easing him over to sit on a wooden box, she could see his body was struggling to drag in air and settle into a rhythm. He feebly grabbed at the hem of his shirt, lifting the hem before letting go again and she realised that he was trying to take it off. She stood, leaning over him to look behind him and inhaled a terrified breath at the sight. Blood streaked across his back in lines, still seeping and sticking the fabric to the wounds. Angry slashes of his father’s fury seared into his skin.

“Oh no, Daryl.” She croaked

“I gotta take this off.” He uttered, still attempting to rid himself of the confines of his blood-soaked T-shirt.

She helped him lift the shirt from his body and swallowed the urge to break down when he cried out in pain. The fabric peeled away from his wounds like a second skin and his eyes shot up to hers, using their connection to hold himself together and prevent him from giving into the distress. Emily tried not to cry but a hand clamped over her mouth did nothing to disguise a sharp gasp. She grabbed for the medical box and fumbled through it, slipping into a blind panic when it dawned on her that there was very little that she could do to help such large gashes.

“I-Ican’t help you.” She sniffed “You need to go to the emergency room, Daryl.”

“No. No hospitals.”

“But… these are big, they need stitches.”

Daryl reached out and grappled with the medical box in her grasp, pulling out a needle and retrieving his zippo lighter form his pocket. He held the needle in the flame and shot her a determined look when she tried to back away from him, ready to argue. He only pulled her back to him, slapping an arm around her wrist and finding a piece of thread in the box. His hands were trembling but somehow and probably through sheer willpower, he managed to push the thread through the eye of the needle. He held it up to her, the small, shiny instrument appearing as thought it was nothing when really, it was pivotal to the healing of his wounds.

“So, stich ‘em.” He told her.

She frantically shook her head. Cleaning cuts and bruises was one thing, but that was quite another. To Emily, it was surgeon level stuff and the thought of having to sew him back together struck terror into her very soul.

“No. No, Daryl. I can’t.” She protested.

“Yes, ya can.” He corrected.

“I’ll make it worse; I can’t do this. Let me take you to a Doctor.” She pleaded.

His eyes flashed with anger and he lurched forwards, blood dripped from his elbow onto the blanket covered floor and the beads of sweat on his forehead were starting to journey down his face.

“You wanna end up in a group home, Em? We talked about this; you know what’ll happen. They’ll take us away and split us up. So, you gotta try. We promised we’d help each other. You crossed your heart n’ so did I”

Being split up was akin to being removed from the world altogether, there was just no point in living without the comfort of each other. Emily was confident enough in social situations but the people she conversed with at school meant nothing to her while Daryl meant everything and to him, Emily was his life and the one thing he had to survive for.

“Oh god.” She whimpered. “I-I can’t.”

“Em, please.” He begged with sadness in his eyes. "Please.”

With a deep breath and fingers so unsteady she could barely grip the needle, she nodded tearfully. Daryl took her hand and squeezed her fingers between his own, the blood settling in the crevices of his skin made it sticky but Emily didn’t care.

“Stop cryin’, girl.” He whispered.

“I-I can’t help it.” She admitted with a heavy heart.

“You know I don’t like it when you cry.”

The sight of Emily crying enraged him, not because he found her annoying or pathetic, but because her sadness made him feel helpless and desperate and he would do anything to take it away from her. Each time her eyes turned glassy or became bloodshot, he’d warn her not to let it take over or tell her to stop crying immediately. Daryl was strong and resilient, but her tears were his kryptonite.

She sniffed loudly and dragged the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping tears away and giving no thought to the blood that smeared over her cheek. Slowly, she began to stitch the broken flesh back together, listening to Daryl’s forcibly steady breathing as she went. He was so controlled and calm, the polar opposite to how she felt.

The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like forever to Daryl as Emily painstakingly pressed on with her delicate and risky task. His body was changing, his once skinny frame was broadening and becoming more muscular and Emily hoped that one day, he would be big enough to fight back against the abuse that was dished out to him from his father. Daryl didn’t care how neat it looked, just that the wounds were closed. But Emily begged to differ and tried her hardest to make each stitch as neat as possible so that when the time came to remove them, his back would not have to be host so such huge scars.

“You need a break?” She asked when she finished the second slash. There were three more.

“Naw. Keep goin.” He grunted.

It was no small feat for such young people to know how to deal with the horrendous consequences of their shattered home lives, but together they had figured out ways to survive and taught each other not only the basics of first aid, but so much more in the process. She had taught him to be softer, to let her in and trust her, even if he didn’t trust anyone else. Daryl had taught her to toughen up and to face situations with the belief in herself that he had in her. He had also shown her that strength could not be taught, that it was present in everyone that knew how to use it. Daryl’s strength was showing in abundance while Emily threaded the needle through his skin over and over. He barely flinched and she felt such pride, such admiration and she knew there and then that whatever the world threw at Daryl Dixon, he’d throw it right back.

It felt like hours when she’d finally finished stitching him up and he’d fallen silent halfway through the third wound. She’d checked on him, knowing he was just running out of fight and the pain was beginning to dull his senses. When she finally finished up by cleaning everything with antiseptic and saline, she sat opposite him and dabbed at his sweaty, dirty face with a cloth. It was on the tip of her tongue, the question they vowed never to ask. She wanted so badly to know why this time had increased in severity. But she knew better, they didn’t ask questions like that, they only dealt with the results.

“You could get an infection.” She mentioned warily.

“Merle has antibiotics. I’ll raid his stash.” He replied, his voice now a mere husk.

Silence fell between them and Daryl was shocked when she shuffled towards him and placed her head in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to touch his back and settled. Not knowing where to put his arms, he eventually placed one hand on the back of her head and the other on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Em” He whispered.

“Cross my heart.” She murmured back.

Rain began to hammer on the outside of the shack but Daryl and Emily didn’t move. They stayed there, holding onto one another, sharing the burden of the nights events and moving through it together. Daryl stroked her hair as his eyes threatened to close. He was exhausted; physically, mentally, emotionally, in every single way a person could be.

“Do you still want to fly away?” He asked her.

“Everyday.”

“Can I still go with you?”

“Always.”


	7. The Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for any comments, kudos or bookmarks. To those that read and choose not to interact, thank you for even reading this.  
> It's a hard read and the subject matter is tough and will only get tougher, but I adore writing this one just for me and find it cathartic when things are a bit difficult. I am so grateful to those that have left compliments, you have no idea how much it means. <3

_**Now** _

Emily was tired. Tired from a night of staring at the ceiling waiting for rest that would never come, tired of fantasising that Daryl would magically appear in the room and take her away to somewhere they could be together again. Together and alone. She was also tired of having to speak to the masses of Greg’s friends and family that insisted upon chattering to her when she simply wanted to enjoy a coffee with her friend in the hotel’s bar.

When The fifth person Emily didn’t know wished her well and showered her with compliments and luck, Jen curled her lip and disguised it by holding her coffee cup in front of her face. But Emily could tell and she said nothing, aware that she would soon find having so many family members tedious and exhausting.

“So, you and Greggo get busy last night?” Jen questioned. Her eyebrows flicked up and down and Emily rolled her eyes.

“Oh god, no. He was too drunk and I was too tired. It’s hard work having so many family members to say goodnight to now” she sighed as she watched the guests filter through the foyer to the parking lot. She sipped her coffee and shrugged at her friend.

“Oh, shut up. Cinderella.” Jen scoffed. Emily giggled quietly in response. “Y’know what this party was lacking?”

Emily unfurled a hand, her palm to the ceiling to signal that she had absolutely no idea what her wedding was lacking apart from Jen’s trademark, cheap booze.

“A little ice cream” Jen winked, opening her cigarette packet and revealing that it was filled with joints. A gasp sounded out from Emily as she lashed out and lowered the packet below the table.

“Are you actually kidding me right now?! Put those away! You are not smoking pot in this hotel!” She warned. Jen stuffed the box back into the leather bag on the floor beneath her chair.

“You’re right, I’m not. I’ll be smoking them in my apartment with my naked girlfriend and a box of Krispy Kreme tonight” She chirped.

Emily suddenly remembered that Jen did in fact have a girlfriend, although it had been a bit of a hazy subject from the start. Usually secretive about any connections she made with women and reluctant to embark on anything involved actual feelings, both Daryl and Emily had been surprised when Jen turned up to meet them at a bar one night with a pretty Chinese woman in tow.

“How’s it going with the girlfriend? What’s her name again?” Emily asked

“Oh…” Jen started, screwing her face up “I forgot. It’s like, three letters and I keep getting them wrong. Anyway, it’s ok. She still won’t learn to speak English so we get along like a house on fire. I don’t have to talk about my feelings and I get laid a lot.” She shrugged. “Although she does this weird thing with toothpaste. Squeezes the middle of it like she’s the hulk or something. Drives me crazy. Mishappen toothpaste tubes unsettle me.”

Emily just smiled thinly, her attention now waning due to her vision being cast out of the window beside them, where she could see Daryl below in the grounds. Dressed down to his usual attire, a sleeveless shirt, leather vest with wings on the back and black jeans, he stuck out and people had to look twice at him to realise that he was the man that walked the bride down the aisle. He was talking to Greg’s parents and shaking their hands with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Ooh, Dixon is talking to the in laws. Red alert!” Jen jibed.

“He’ll be fine” Emily smiled. “He’s polite and courteous to people when he has to be.”

“I know, I’m just kidding.” Jen dismissed “I had a drink with him in here last night. He was pretty low.” She picked up her coffee cup and slurped loudly with no regard for anyone that could hear her.

“He was?” Emily questioned, concerned that Daryl had spent the whole day in a kind of limbo while he tried to come to terms with what had happened.

“Yeah. You know what he gets like sometimes. Snappy as shit but stops short of biting your head clean off.” Jen conveyed with a confidence that showed she knew Daryl almost as well as Emily did after so many years of friendship. She wasn’t afraid of his temper or his moods. In fact, Jen wasn’t afraid of much at all.

“Yeah, I know that very well.” Emily agreed.

Having time to seek him out and try to pick apart the tangled threads they’d woven the previous day, Emily excused herself from the table and dashed across the Foyer, being careful to avoid the observant gaze of Greg’s family members, who all wanted the opportunity to speak to the Bride before they departed.

In the grounds of the hotel, waiters flitted around in their penguin-like uniforms carrying expensive, silver tableware and guests chattered quietly among themselves in the bright and warm sunshine that cast across the garden’s seating area. In her black, skinny jeans with a baggy, oversized vest top and lace bralet. Emily wandered out into the daylight, clocking Daryl slowly ambling back and forth at the foot of the stairs. Out of all of the guests at the hotel, Daryl stood out the most in black jeans, a checked grey and black shirt and his angel winged vest that drew the attention of many a passer-by who assumed he was associated with some form of outlaw club or gang. It was a label that Daryl did little to try and shed, seeing it as a great tool for keeping people away and avoiding the one thing he really was no good at; talking to strangers. But the wedding had provided him with plenty of anxiety inducing situations that he had faced head-on and conquered. Even Greg’s parents had greeted him and not run away in terror and that could only mean that despite it all, Daryl really was making an effort.

“Morning, Daryl.” She called out with a carefree smile in the hope that he would mirror her and settle the creeping worry in her heart.

“Mornin’. Mrs Porter.” He said, his tone is ever so slightly mocking and his eyes squinting in the sunlight as she descended the stairs. “You not headin’ home?”

“Just waiting for Greg to say goodbye to his six thousand cousins and their dogs.”

An older couple passed, arm in arm, swerving around Daryl, who managed to notice them in time to graciously step aside and offer them a polite nod. What he received in return was a judgemental double-take. It was nothing less than expected, he knew he was the most underdressed and unusual looking person in the entire hotel.

“You want to go for a walk?” Emily asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and discreetly launched his cigarette end into some nearby flowerbeds.

“Alright”

In between the perfectly preened conifer trees in the grounds, nothing was said at first while Emily and Daryl drew a path with their footsteps in grounds that could have been fresh out of a movie. Or, another world considering the reality they were both used to. With his hands in his pockets, he matche Emily’s pace and she linked her hand under his elbow and held his forearm.

“Jen said you were kinda low last night.” She mentioned with a low and wary voice.

He expected that Jen would have said something in reference to their time in the bar the night before. That’s what she did, what she was good at; mentioning just enough to prompt conversation between him and Emily. She knew them both well and although she grated on Daryl’s nerves with her meddling, he was fond of her and grateful to have her around. Most of the time. 

“Was drunk. That’s all.” He lied, uninterested in having to explain the real reason for his less than enthusiastic mood. He could feel Emily’s eyes on him as he put one foot in front of the other and deliberately avoided her gaze.

“Daryl, are you ok?” She questioned.

His desire to steer clear of an awkward conversation was clearly being ignored and he growled quietly to himself from the anger rising in his chest. He didn’t want to snap at her, but he thought it to be an altogether stupid and pointless question. Of course, he was not OK and wasn’t likely to be for a very long time.

“What if I ain’t, huh? Not exactly anythin’ you can do ‘bout it.” He snapped.

Emily was dismayed to find that he seemed to be just as confused and mixed up as she was and didn’t blame him for being touchy at all. But she still hated it when he was mad at her and her body began to feel laden with worry and dread.

“Ooookkaaay.” She sighed “Tell me what you want from me. Please?”

“Nothin’.” He grunted.

“Then please, don’t be like this. You’re my best friend.” She pleaded.

_Best Friend. Yeah, right._

He thought back and for an indulgent and fleeting moment, recalled how good it felt to be inside her. To truly be truly at one with her on such a physical and emotional level. It was all he’d ever wanted but he had only been allowed that one taste of true bliss before he had to pretend nothing had happened. He wondered if she felt it too, if she felt the longing and the pain. If she did, he’d never want to exacerbate it and so, began to feel a slight pull of guilt at how he’d let his anger get the better of him.

“M’sorry. My heads just all… fucked up. I just need some time.” He explained.

“Alright, I won’t bother you when we get back home. I’ll leave you for a few days. Is that ok?” She suggested, knowing that when Daryl had something on his mind, it was better to provide him with space over firing questions at him and making him talk when he didn’t want to. She had faith in him that he would always come to her, even if it took a while. But their situation was new and a bustling warzone of possible bad moves.

“Do what ya want.” He shrugged.

Her own temper heightened at his borderline rude response and while she didn’t want to pester him with her need for answers, she wasn’t about to let him talk to her as if she didn’t matter. There was always a fine line with Daryl and Emily rarely let him toe it.

“Daryl!” She stopped walking. Ripped her hand out from under his arm and frowned at him In protest of his dismissive remark.

He noted her obvious irritation and felt the familiar gnawing of regret deep inside that was often the result of him having upset her in some way.

“Yes! Alright? It’s fine.” He sighed.

She brazenly held his gaze and his eyes alone managed to convey so many things he wanted to say but wasn’t sure she ever wanted to hear. When he didn’t break eye contact with her, she knew to wait because something was coming, his lips parted and he stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“You still don’t regret it?” He asked bravely.

“Daryl I can’t answer that.” She said sadly, peering back at him with worried eyes. “It’s not right.”

A fire ignited in his chest and he scoffed loudly at her and a sarcastic, half smile of disbelief emerging on his lips as he shook his head. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and stepped closer to her.

“Not right? _Not right?!_ Listen to your damn self, girl! There ain’t nothin’ bout this that’s right n’ you wanna get all moral high ground on me for askin’ a fuckin’ question? For wantin’ to know what the hell I’m sposed to do with this?!”

“No. I-I know, I’m sorry. Oh my god, this is such a mess. What did we do?! Did we fuck up our friendship?” She fretted. He could see her eyes glistening in the light and hoped that she wouldn’t start to cry at him, it would only enrage him even more. But no matter how mad he was, he wasn’t about to let their friendship slip away after so long, so many years of being each other’s person. It was all too precious to throw away and Daryl didn’t know the first thing about living a life without Emily in it.

“No. That ain’t… it ain’t gonna happen” He attempted to assure her “I told ya I just need time to process all this.”

She nodded and took his hands, moving him behind a tree and checking the grounds for anyone nearby. She saw no one and Daryl was deeply concerned that he may have to exercise some self-restraint and stop her if she had designs on making any risky moves on him. But she just looked up at him and sighed slowly, her lips pushed into a thin line.

“You didn’t dance with me on my wedding day.” She uttered.

Daryl, once again, huffed with disbelief and shook his head at her like he couldn’t even begin to fathom her logic.

“Jesus, Em. C’mon, that ain’t fair.” He argued.

“But you didn’t. I wanted you to.” She confirmed, unaware that she was now treading on extremely thin ice and it was cracking under the weight of her demands and the secret they both carried.

“What more do you want from me, huh?! I have given you everythin’ I got!” He suddenly growled at her. His voice was still quiet but his rage was evident in his hunched shoulders and powerful glare. As he spoke, he jabbed an index finger at her “I have fought for you, comforted you, taken care of you, I’ve even fuckin _bled_ for you. I didn’t even start this, y _ou_ kissed _me_ and I should have stopped ya but I…I couldn’t. Maybe that makes me weak or some shit, I dunno. So, I had sex with you and it was weird and intense and y’know what? I _still_ walked ya down the aisle afterwards and I have no idea how I did that. I’m keepin’ this damn secret for the rest of my life and you _still_ want more from me? For god sakes! What about me, Em?! I gave you my fuckin soul for my entire life n’ now it ain’t enough?”

“I’m sorr-” She sniffed. But he was too angry to listen and quickly cut her off.

“Naw!” He flailed a hand up at her and turned away, thoughtfully and restlessly rubbing his chin. “I should have stopped ya. This never would have happened.”

A loud sniff had his eyes darting back to her and behind her raised hand, she tried to blink away tears. He pushed her hand aside until he was able to see her face.

“Oh no, no…Don’t you dare do that.” He warned.

“I’m not” she sniffled.

Overwhelmed by both her emotions and his own, he found himself bringing her close to him and holding either side of her face. His forehead was connected with hers and her eyes were pushed shut in an effort to stop her sadness from flowing down her cheeks. She covered his fingers, gripping onto him as if he might vanish into thin air.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ cry.” He whispered to her “Stop it. Please.”

But she already was and his pleading was in vain. She shuddered against him and he had no choice but to drop his hands and snake them around her waist. He gently kissed her forehead and for what seemed like an eternity, they remained that way with her shaking breathing as the only sound.

“I’m gonna go, Em.” He informed her. She broke away from him and wiped under her eyes with her fingers. He turned away from her and began to pace around, rubbing his face with his hand before he halted. “Alright, listen…I’ma say somethin’ to you n’ I’m only ever gonna say it this once because you got a husband now.” She stared at him with wide, expectant eyes and puffy cheeks and he could hear her laboured breathing. “What we did… it may be wrong but it was so damn good and I ain’t ever gonna forget how it felt to be connected to you like that. I meant what I said yesterday, I ain’t sorry, because I loved every second of it. You and I, we’ve flirted on and off since high school but only when we were single n’ nothin’ ever came of it. ‘cause we’re friends. Now, I don’t know if ya just did it because you were scared of gettin’ married n’ needed a distraction from someone ya trusted or if I was just there to scratch an itch, but please…please, Emily, as long as you’re married or with somebody else, don’t _ever_ come on to me like that again.”

His request was laced with emotion and as he backed up and turned to walk away Emily fought the urge to sob loudly, suppressing her despair at his words, his admission that he’d loved being with her sexually and felt connected to her. She felt the same but knew, as did Daryl, that the ring on her finger meant there was no point in voicing it. She wanted more for him anyway and even if she hadn’t said her vows and promised herself to someone else for the rest of her life, she would have pushed him towards women that had a lot more to offer than she ever could.


	8. The Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive typos. I'll get to them eventually ;)

**_Then_ **

Emily wasn’t one to suffer fools and grew into a bold and fearless teenager that dared to be different and wasn’t deterred by any kind of intimidation. She kept to herself and maintained a close and trusting relationship with the only other soul that completely understood her. Daryl. With hormones raging and emotions creating even more confusion, Both Daryl and Emily’s friendship was changing, morphing into an intricate web of toeing the line with one another and always stopping short of an act that could change things forever.

She’d noticed how at fifteen, his voice was different, his shoulders were broader, his arms were filling out and he was taller and more capable of standing up for himself. In fact, it was a given that Daryl would become a scrapper and his anger was frequently channelled into getting into fights at school and selling drugs to jocks under the bleachers. Emily still tended to his wounds, only now, they were not given by the hand of his father, who had died as the result of a drug overdose two days before Emily moved in.

The halls of the high school were bustling in the last few precious minutes of lunch. Lockers slammed and chatter filled the walkways as bodies packed the space and students lingered outside classrooms. Emily slung her black backpack over her shoulder and glanced to her side at Daryl, who was balling his hand up into a fist at his side, subtly monitoring his grazed knuckles and hiding them in the long sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Should go to the nurse.” She mumbled at him.

“You’re my nurse.” He grumbled back.

She stopped walking and manoeuvred him over to the side of the hall, close to the lockers and took hold of his hand. She pushed back his sleeve and pursed her lips at the angry, still-bleeding grazes across his knuckles.

“Meet me after class, I’ll clean this up for you.” She sighed.

“S’fine. I can do it.” He said, taking his hand back and shoving it into his pocket.

“I know.” She rolled her eyes and picked up the combination padlock on her locker, spinning the numbers into place, she clicked open the lock and opened the door. With one hand, she rifled through the contents and eventually found a packet of cigarettes under a screwed-up hoodie and slipped them into the side pocket of her backpack. Daryl watched her closely through the front of his floppy hair, noticing how she threw her attention to menial tasks when she was irritated with him.

“You do it better than me.” He whispered to her. She paused and he could see her eyes darting around his face.

“Like I said, meet me after class.” She repeated “Keep this up and I’m going to start charging you.”

As their friendship was changing and becoming even more unbreakable, so did their humour and toying with the finesse that flirting required.

“If ya chargin’ me, can I make a request?” He asked.

She slammed her locker closed and tilted her head to the side, raising one eyebrow.

“What kinda request?” She questioned, unimpressed by his usual blasé reaction to being injured and trying to move the subject away from yet another bad decision.

“Can ya just wear less clothes or somethin’?” he smirked.

For a moment, she was mad at him. Mad that he seemed to be so insistent about making the situation humorous when it wasn’t. But then, she noticed his smirk and the sparkle in his eye and found herself biting down on her lower lip, stifling a wide smile.

“You’re a jerk.” She huffed.

“I know” He beamed. “I’ll see ya later.”

As he backed up and spun on his heels, Emily pondered just what the hints at more than a friendship meant to him because to her, they were starting to force her to second guess everything.

She wandered in the direction of her French class with her hand clutched around a bag of weed in her pocket. She’d picked it up from the coffee table in the Dixon house, where she’d lived in Daryl’s divided bedroom with him in recent years after being thrown out by her mother. On weekends, she worked in a hardware store and was determined to save money to put down a deposit on her own room or small apartment as soon as she was able. Living with Daryl had been strange at first, but they soon settled into a routine and whenever Emily convinced herself something would put a strain on their friendship, she was always shown that it only became stronger.

Spirited laughing caught her attention along with banging and slapping sounds on the crowd ahead of her. As the bodies parted, the scene cleared and Emily could make out three popular girls dragging the possessions out of an unusually decorated locker while a black-haired, horrified looking girl stood there with her arms wrapped around her middle and using her long, hair as a curtain.

Emily couldn’t just walk past. She wasn’t exactly part of the popular crowd, more a middle ground drifter that sometimes got herself into trouble for smoking weed and drinking on school grounds with Daryl. She was known of by both teachers and students and had become somewhat notorious in that she was not one to be trifled with. But on the inside, Emily didn’t feel so tough. She possessed a festering sadness that cast a black cloud over her world, making her angry and resentful, sometimes only able to see the world through the eyes of a broken pessimist. It was something she hid well, even from Daryl although she oftentimes suspected that he knew when she’d catch him watching her from his bed on the other side of the room with a worried expression and his fingers rapidly drumming on his thigh.

Wasting no time, Emily marched up to the three girls who were hellbent on emptying the sticker-covered locker.

“Hi there! What’s going on here? Are we clearing a locker out?” She announced at the top of her voice. Made-up faces framed by perfectly curled hair looked at her, shocked at her brash interruption. The black-haired girl only appeared more terrified, as if Emily’s arrival meant her day was about to get a whole lot worse. “Here let me help, there’s a dent in this door, have you seen that? I can get that out, no problem.”

The handy positioning of one of the girl’s hands on the edge of the lockers opening was the first thing that Emily noticed when she approached, seeing an opportunity that could not be passed up. She placed a hand on the door and quickly heaved it closed it with all her might, putting her entire body weight behind it like some kind of wrestling move and trapping the fingers of the ringleader in the process. The bang echoed and bounced from the walls and the piercing screams of the girl made Emily’s ears ring. Eyes grew wide, mouths dropped open and Emily simply stepped back with a surprised look on her face.

“Oops! Oh… I’m sorry. That was a terrible accident.” She said innocently.

Broken skin, reddened and bloody. Cries of disbelief and shock. A simple shrug and the knowledge that the deformed fingers that everyone was gawping at would bruise badly. False nails were all cracked and crumbled and Emily fought to keep a loud laugh from escaping her.

“You should go seek medical attention for that. Quickly, before it gets worse! Go!” She exclaimed, hurrying all three away with her hands. But the injured girl glared back at her with such rage that she thought a fist fight may not be entirely out of the question. Either way, Emily was game and was ready to lay down the law and humiliate anyone that thought it necessary to pick on someone else as mercilessly as she had just witnessed. She didn’t even flinch when the mangled fingers were shoved in her face.

“You’re a fucking psycho!” The girl bellowed in Emily’s face.

Undeterred, Emily moved closer still, with a sinister smile on her face.

“The last girl that crossed me needed forty-seven stitches.” She briefly flickered her eyes to the baffled and shocked black-haired girl “Go near her again and I’ll gouge your eyes out with a fucking spoon.”

Eventually backing up, all three girls vanished from the hall and the remainder of the audience observed in amazement as the bell rang and Emily stopped down to help the black-haired girl, who was now scrabbling about on the floor, retrieving her belongings and shoving them into her bag. Emily studied the books scattered on the floor. Notepads covered in scribbles, symbols, mandalas and quotes. Leaflets for various gigs around town and photographs of the same girl, standing with a group of smiling individuals that Emily didn’t recognise. A pile of books had formed between them, all too big to fit into a bag and so, Emily picked them up and managed to drop them back into the locker from whence they’d came. She took her time to note yet more photos and stickers, band flyers and rainbows. The girl really had a thing for rainbows.

“Are you alright?” She asked, turning to find the startled girl behind her.

“Um, yeah. That was… insane. Th-thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” Was the shaky and unsure response. Such a violent and brash show from her apparent saviour meant that she couldn’t quite calm down until her true motives were revealed.

“Believe me. I did have to do that.” Emily affirmed “Bitch had it coming.” She stuck out a hand, her silver bracelets jangling as she moved. “I’m Emily.”

The girl hesitated for a moment, looking down at Emily’s silver clad wrist as if she might catch something from it, before she realised that if it wasn’t for this odd stranger and her intervention, the hallways floor might still be covered with her treasured photographs and notebooks. She smiled thinly and shook her hand.

“J-Jenifer. Jen. Call me Jen.” She stuttered.

Emily popped a piece of gum into her mouth and stepped aside, motioning for Jen to finish up what she was doing in her locker before she was rudely interrupted. Leaning against the metal doors and locks, she waited patiently and once Jen finally moved away and closed her locker, she offered the seemingly meek and mild girl a wide smile. Emily’s light brown hair was scraped up into a messy ponytail and she was wearing a black, button down shirt with a silver necklace, a complete contrast to the bullying girls that had just been present. She was, on the surface, quite underwhelming. But Jen knew already that there was a lot more to this one than met the eye.

“I should uh…go…away.” Jen pointed out, awkwardly waving a hand behind her and quickly turning away. Her boots thudded on the shiny flooring when she tried to make her escape.

“Hey new girl?” Emily called out. Jen stopped and looked over her shoulder. “You are new, right?”

A short nod was her only response.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?”

“Right now?” Jen asked, confused.

“Yeah. Right now.”

“I can’t. I have class.”

“So? So do I. Ice cream is better than going to class. Come on.” She told her with a flick of her head towards the door. Her rebellious streak had been obvious in her dealing with Jen’s unfortunate situation but at that point, it was all the more evident. Jen, having not been an angel in her previous school, was grateful of the offer and didn’t need much convincing, telling herself she’d already had a bad day and life was putting Emily in her way to cut her a break. Before she could answer, Emily was already on her way to the main door of the building.

“I said, come on, locker girl!” She cried at the top of her voice, with her arms held high in the air.

* * *

The pathway along the creek was the route Emily and Daryl always took home from school. Having installed footrest pegs on the back wheels of his hand-me-down bicycle, Daryl gave Emily a ride home from school most days, that was when she wasn’t chasing after yet another boy that he knew would treat her badly. The path boasted benches every mile or so and provided a peaceful and quiet retreat from the busy halls of their high school.

When she didn’t show up after the last class of the day, he waited for fifteen minutes before deciding to head home and prepare himself for what would end up being either an hour long ramble about how great her new love interest was, or a fully fledged rant in which she would continually ask why there were no nice guys in the world. He set off home, getting up enough speed to skid down the slanted, gravelly entrance to the Creekside pathway. When he arrived at the first bench, he was taken aback to find Emily lying flat on her back at the water’s edge with her socks and boots beside her, dangling her feet in the water. Beside her was a girl he didn’t know, who’s long, black hair glimmered in the sunlight as she sat up beside his friend.

At the sight of Emily with someone that wasn’t male, Daryl had to blink to check that what he was seeing was real. Emily didn’t have any female friends. In fact, she didn’t have any friends other than Daryl and when she was in the company of another male, it was normally because she had a crush on him. He halted the bike and his feet hit the floor, his hands stayed on the handles, gripping them a little tighter than he could help.

“Em.” He called out, seeing her jump up and whirl around. Her face broke into a bright smile when she saw him. That same smile that he was finding it increasingly difficult to be mad at.

“Hey!” She cried as if she wasn’t expecting to see him.

“You were sposed to meet me after class. I waited for ya. What’s goin’ on?” He wanted to know.

Emily’s friend began to giggle uncontrollably and Daryl wondered what the hell could be so amusing.

“Oh shit!” Emily gasped “I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

“Can see that.” He grumbled, sitting back on his bike seat and gradually using his legs to walk the bike closer to the grass verge. As he neared them, he detected the strong smell of marijuana and everything clicked into place. No wonder she’d forgotten, she was having the time of her life without him.

“Is your hand okay?” She questioned.

“I’ll live.” He grunted.

Emily scrambled to her feet and motioned to her chuckling friend.

“This is my friend Jen. I saved her from a terrible demon today and we went for ice cream.” She looked back at Jen. “This is my best friend, Daryl.”

“Hi” Jen offered feebly with a small wave and finally able to stop laughing.

“Hey.” Daryl nodded back. His eyes swung back to Emily “The fuck is this? Ya had ice cream without me?”

“Um… yes?” She squeaked.

“Got any left?”

“No.”

“Ya smoked the whole damn bag?!” He exclaimed. Panic crossed his features and Emily immediately figured that the weed she’d picked up at the house and had consumed with Jen, may well have belonged to someone other than Daryl. It was well-known in the small town in which they lived, that if you needed drugs, you visited the Dixon house. Moving from one house of violence to what had turned into a small drug dealing empire meant that Emily still didn’t have much of a stable life, but she lived with Daryl and if keeping her mouth shut was the small price to pay for being able to live alongside the one person she felt safe with, she was willing to pay it. She shrugged and held her hands up in surrender.

“Sorry” She uttered.

“Merle’s gonna flip his shit, Em! That was his weed! He wouldn’t have noticed if we’d taken enough for a couple joints but the whole damn bag is gonna get me a beatin’!”

For some reason that Emily could only put down to the weed, she burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, hearing Jen do the same behind her and noticing Daryl sigh in exasperation.

“What the fuck.” He huffed to himself.

“I’m sooooorry!” She begged between giggles.

“It’s my fault.” Jen managed to say while crawling up from the bank and kicking her way through the grass. “I didn’t know she actually meant weed when she said ‘ice cream’ and I got a bit carried away.”

Rage flared in Daryl’s chest and looking at Jen only made it burn hotter. Because of her, he was about to go home and face his brother’s wrath. Drugs were a commodity to the Dixons and Emily’s new friend may as well have set fire to it. What’s more, it was Emily that had enabled it and in that, he was disappointed.

“Great. I’ll tell my brother to beat the shit outta you instead!” He raged. The bike jolted back onto the path and Daryl switched up the gears, gaining speed and wanting to put some distance between him and his source of anger. But Emily was chasing him, sprinting along the grass and pleading with him to stop. He slowed, glancing at her with gritted teeth and breathing through his nose. The Bikes brakes squealed when he came to a stop and hung his head.

“Daryl. Stop. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me. I’ll talk to Merle.” She suggested in the hope that he would reassure her that he wasn’t mad like he always did.“I-we smoked it all, I’ll tell him.”

Jen, who was now finishing up tying the laces on her sneakers, looked up and focused on their hands. Emily’s fingers were entwined with his over the handle closest to her. Jen wondered if they were more than friends, having never encountered a platonic relationship between a boy and a girl that was so affectionate before.

“Ya really think I’ma let him near you?” Daryl started “Naw. I’ll say it was me. Just don’t do this shit again. This is money, it’s the reason we have electricity and food. You know that.” He explained, feeling like he was scolding a small child when she jutted her lower lip out and swayed her torso back and forth.

Her hand still rested on his, but lightly and her thumb traced tenderly across his grazed knuckles. Guilt stung her when she considered her actions that afternoon. Not only was she very likely to have got Daryl into trouble with his brother, she also told him she would clean his hand up for him and had let him down. She stepped closer, placing her other hand on his shoulder and trying to quell his obvious irritation.

Daryl wasn’t comfortable with physical affection by any stretch of the imagination, but with Emily it had come so easily. He trusted her and therefore, she was the only person he ever let touch him and over the years, their friendship had become one where they shared frequent hugs, held hands, slept on each other’s laps in front of movies and tears were shed on T-shirts while Emily cried over another heartbreak. As soon as he felt the warmth of her on his skin, he calmed considerably.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” She whispered.

“I ain’t.” He replied under his breath, once again hanging his head and trying to push away the thought of what might befall him back at the house.

“Daryl-”

“-I ain’t mad, Em.”

And he wasn’t, because when he brought his eyes back to hers, she was looking right at him with her flawless skin and pink lips and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t stay mad at her. He lifted his hand from the handle, slid it out from under her palm and snaked his arm around her waist, bringing her into a loose hug. She draped her arms over his wide shoulders and from the bench, Jen furrowed her brow.

“I’ll see ya back at the house.” He rasped as he let go of her and pushed his bike into motion.

Emily was sheepish when she slowly ambled back to the bench and sank down beside jen, who by now was completely baffled by what she’d witnessed.

“Is he your boyfriend?” She asked directly, reluctant to steer herself into the territory of receiving a vague or avoidant answer. Emily didn’t breathe a word at first, she only looked down and swished her feet through the air under the seat. Her toes ghosted over the tickly ends of the blades of overgrown grass beneath her. It was the second time in two weeks that someone had asked her if Daryl was her boyfriend and the more she was forced to think about it, the more uncomfortable it made her.

“We’ve been friends since we were three years old.” She told her in the hope that the statement would be enough to satisfy her interest in the subject.

“So? Don’t people that are childhood friends grow up to be lovers?” Jen reasoned with smirk.

“No. Not always. Oh my god, shut up.” Emily mumbled shyly. Her cheeks began to rage and it dawned on her that the thought of her and Daryl becoming lovers one day actually embarrassed her and she had no idea why.

“You’re blushing.” Jen pointed out. “You like him, don’t you?”

“He’s my friend, of course I like him!” Emily cried “But not like _that.”_

“Why not? He’s very pretty.”

“Pretty? You think Daryl is _pretty?_ ” Emily chuckled.

“Oh yeah. Totally. He could be one of those high fashion models when he’s a little older. He has this heroin chic thing going on.”

Emily gawped at her, the prospect of Daryl finding out that he’d been described in such a way didn’t exactly fill her with confidence, but it wasn’t something she could disagree with.

“Uh…I guess so. I mean, his eyes are just… _so_ freakin’ beautiful and he has those gorgeous, big shoulders.” She began to say, more to herself than to Jen as her mind kicked into overdrive. “I guess some girls think he’s hot. He gets attention. There’s this one girl, Emma. She asked me if he was single last week. But I don’t think she’s good enough for him. She doesn’t get good grades and I heard she did some real nasty shit down at Martland Park with this guy, Nate from the football team. He had herpes once and everybody knows you can’t get rid of that forever.”

“You want Daryl to be with someone that gets good grades?” Jen questioned, a little confused by the logic at play and totally ignoring everything else from Emily’s babbling.

“I want him to end up with a nice girl, that treats him good. Y’know? He’s looked after me my whole life, he deserves to be with somebody that’s smart and funny and knows what the fuck they’re doing with their life.”

Jen thought for a moment while she braided her hair over her shoulder. She sat back against the wooden backrest and mulled over the fact that Emily had such high hopes for the boy she professed not to have any romantic feelings for. If she really didn’t feel anything except a friendship for him, it was evident that any girl that dated Daryl would be subject to a difficult and practically impossible test at the hands of his best friend.

“So, you definitely _don’t_ think he’s hot?” She confirmed with yet more sarcasm.

“No. Lord above. You’re fucking annoying, aren’t you?” Emily laughed.

From that moment on, Jen knew that she was going to be able to see straight through Emily.

* * *

That night saw Emily and Daryl visit the shack which they still did from time to time when Merle was dealing or entertaining a female visitor. When they had money, they’d go and grab a burger or catch a movie, but cash was scarce and playing cards, reading, drawing or even just curling up under a blanket in the shack was the next best thing.

When Emily returned home, Daryl was nowhere to be seen and she’d walked in to find the living room full of strange men, all counting stacks of cash in a cloud of smoke and cuss words. She dumped her bag and marched straight back outside, hitting the track that led to the rickety, wooden construct in the woods.

Daryl was already inside with a flashlight upended on the floor beside him as he lay out cards on the wooden box in the middle of the makeshift room. Darkness had fallen and with it came a creeping cold that Emily could feel despite charging through the trees in a hurry. Wordlessly, she plonked herself on the ground opposite him and saw him pause his dealing. He left the cards on the table, shrugged his leather vest off and handed it to her. The corner of her mouth lifted and she accepted his gesture and lay the vest over her shoulders with a heavy heart after he moved into the light and she found herself face to face with his split lip.

“I got you hurt.” She stated quietly.

“Just one punch. It’s nothin’.” He assured her. Picking up the cards again, he resumed laying them out into a pattern, keeping all the suits in their own columns. Then, he heard a sniff and his eyes shot up to her face where he saw a single tear travel down her cheek before she rapidly batted it away.

“Why you cryin’?” He asked.

“I’m not.” She lied.

“I’m not an idiot. Don’t treat me like I am.” He snapped. “Why ya cryin’?”

“I hate that your brother bust your lip. Because of something I did.” She admitted, raising her glassy eyes and stinging at Daryl’s heart.

“It aint as bad as it looks. N’ I shouldn’t have left that shit layin’ around anyways. Was sposed to be in Merle’s stash. It aint ya fault. So, stop it.” He explained. His attempt to soothe her appeared to work, at least long enough for him to try and distract her. She nodded and drew his vest around her middle while his fingers worked nimbly to collect all the cards and shuffle them. She gathered that they would be playing poker, as was customary since they’d both learned the game and couldn’t sit in their current positions without completing one round.

She hated the look of the cut across the right side of his lower lip and wanted more than anything to shuffle over to him and gently touch her finger to it, needing to see for herself that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Her gaze lingered on his lips and before long, his tongue emerged, a sign of deep concentration. She raised her vision slightly to his eyes and smiled subtly at the way they focused so hard on the cards in his hands, then onto his shoulders that without his leather vest were more exposed by the thin, grey T-shirt he wore. His forearms, under his rolled-up sleeves, had broken out into goosepimples from the cold but he would rather have frozen than to take his vest back from Emily and see her shiver even once. The longer Emily sat there and observed him, the clearer it as all becoming to her. Jen was right, Daryl was attractive in an unconventional way and there was a capability about him, a strength that shone brighter than his scars and his rage and she knew it. She knew him, the real him. The bad boy, rude, conformational, snappy and unpredictable on the outside. But it wasn’t reflected on the inside. Emily was the one that knew how selfless Daryl was, how thoughtful and gentle and caring he was. He was the one that built her up when she crumbled, he was the one that believed in her, he wiped her tears and held her when she was sad and he would not hear a bad word said against her by anyone, let alone herself. He’d provided her with a place to live and defied his brothers wishes to toss her out on the streets. Sitting there in the dim light of the flashlight with the wind howling past the shack, Emily had an epiphany. Daryl was the only person that had ever cared about her and the only person that would go such lengths to see her happy and safe. Yes, he was her very best friend in the world. But there was something else there, something so big, so huge and profound that she would remember shuffling cards in the shack on that night for the rest of her life. She was in love with him.

Her back hit the wall of the shack with a thump and Daryl froze, raising an eyebrow at her and witnessing her drag her lower lip under her teeth and bite down. Her eyes were everywhere but on him and her hands were being used to haul her body further away from the box. She didn’t even know that she was capable of such love, or if she ever believed it really existed. She’d heard some people express that her mothers love for her father had been too much, that she’d driven him away. But they knew nothing of what they gossiped about, not really. They were not behind the closed doors of Emily’s childhood home where punches were thrown and scolding comments were made. No, there was not an ounce of love in Emily’s family life and in a way, she thought it may have stunted her forever, leaving her unable to feel such emotion for another human being. But she’d been wrong and Daryl had been the one to unveil that she was capable and that she loved him. She was terrified.

“What’s up?” Daryl probed, putting the cards down again.

Not knowing what to say and accepting that she would never be able to confess her true feelings for him, she opted to use diversion tactics.

“You know Emma likes you, right?” She blurted out against her better judgement. Why she’d selected such a topic was beyond her but she accepted that Emma and her bad grades were about as likely to get into Daryl’s pants as pigs were to sprout wings and fly. But, at least Emma had a family and didn’t seem to be emotionally broken or laden with traumatic baggage. For those reasons alone, she was already a better candidate for him that Emily was herself.

“Huh? Who?” He queried, without a single clue who she was talking about and why she was bringing it up at that point, out of nowhere.

“Emma, she’s in your English class. Long, blonde hair? Wears a lot of cashmere like she’s a rich bitch.” Emily waffled with a hand waving in their air as she spoke.

“How d’ya know she likes me?” He continued.

“Last week, she asked me if I was your girlfriend. When I said no, she wanted to know if anybody else was and then wanted your number. Can’t blame her, I guess. You’re not bad to look at.”

The last part of her sentence had been completely involuntary and was as thought her subconscious had managed to throw it into the mix without her knowing. She didn’t regret saying it, she just had very little idea of how he would take it.

Daryl wasn’t used to being complimented by girls even though he got noticed frequently and heard whispers from groups of females mentioning his various positive physical attributes as he passed. He paid their comments no mind and figured that it was high school; everyone was crazy anyway. When Emily carelessly threw a compliment at him, everything was different. He listened and his first instinct was to tell himself in no uncertain terms that she’d known him for so long, she was required to say such things, that she didn’t mean it the way it sounded.

“I’m not?” he wanted to know, paying little attention to her explanation of how she came to know that the girl from one of his classes was interested in him.

“In the right light. Or, the dark…mainly.” She joked with a grin, pleased at her quick thinking.

“Makes two of us. Good job we spend all our time in here, huh?” He shot back.

Emily merely scoffed at his witty retort as he let out a small chuckle. Her heart swelled at the sight of him smiling with his fat lip. It must have hurt, but he wasn’t giving anything away.

“Ahh, I’m kiddin’.” He conceded.

“So am I. You’re hot.” She quickly acknowledged, trying not to place too much emphasis on her opinion of him.

“Um…uh…T-thanks.” He stammered, unsure of exactly how to take a compliment from her but knowing that the socially acceptable response was to return the favour. He wondered just how honest he should be and concluded that even if it did come across as a little too strong, he could cover it with a well-placed joke. “I uh, don’t know why she thought you were my girlfriend. Too pretty for me.”

Emily’s cheeks exploded with heat and she was grateful to be positioned far enough away from the flashlight to avoid Daryl seeing her bashfulness. The atmosphere was already turning strange, into new territory that she wasn’t used to and she was struggling to keep her cool.

“That’s sweet, but totally not true. I-uh, Thanks, anyway.” She laughed.

“So, what you say to this Emma girl?”

“Said you haven’t got a phone right now. But she should talk to you. Do you like her?”

“Don’t know her.”

“Yeah but I mean like, looks wise. Do you like how she looks?”

“No”

“Not at all?”

“Why you so interested in this?” He questioned, shifting forwards slightly to be able to see her face better in the dark.

“I’m just… curious I guess.”

“Curious ‘bout what?”

“Why you never seem to take any interest in girls”

It was true, as far back as she could remember, Daryl had shown little to no interest in girls when other males his age were embarking on their first relationships and navigating the minefield of dating. She couldn’t recall a time when Daryl had ever mentioned a movie star that he liked the look of, or stuck a poster of a scantily clad female on his bedroom wall. There was not one single inkling that he had any interest in the opposite sex. Or, sex at all for that matter.

“I dunno. I just don’t.”

It wasn’t a good enough reply and since she’d bitten the bullet and expressed outright that she was curious about him, she wasn’t about to give up without at least something to go on.

“Well, what kind of answer is that? I mean, I know you’re not gay because you flirt with me and you have straight porn stashed in your nightstand.”

Daryl recoiled and his mouth dropped open in a stunned silence for what felt like forever to her. All she could think about was how to placate the fury that he was probably going to rain down on her for making such an observation.

“Emily! What the fuck?! You been goin’ through my shit?” He exclaimed.

“No, not intentionally. I needed paper for an essay and you left it right on top of the pile.” She told him. The pitch of her voice had risen due to her panicking that he would be mad at her again. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s just me.”

Then, he just looked confused and Emily’s anxiety waned.

“What? I ain’t embarrassed. I’m almost sixteen years old and a guy. Shit, it’d be weird if I _didn’t_ have porn stashed somewhere.” He mentioned, expressing a decent point and one which Emily hadn’t thought of even in the time since she’d first seen the incriminating DVD floating about on top of a pile of paperwork in the nightstand drawer. At the time, she just rolled her eyes and paid it no mind. Merle had stacks of porn and it was inevitable that Daryl would soon follow suit. Or was it? It was this secret find that started a train of thought for Emily in which she tried to remember any, one occasion where Daryl had liked a girl and came up with absolutely nothing.

“Good point.” She admitted.

“I just ain’t interested in getting into somethin’ with a girl I don’t even like. Alright?”

“Okay.”

A brief silence filled the room and Daryl had to ask himself where this whole, bizarre topic of conversation had come from. The only difference in that day to any other had been the introduction of Jen, Emily’s new friend and it seemed awfully convenient that such an unusual subject had been discussed just after Emily had spent the day with her. Or, maybe it was going to happen anyway. Merle always told him that men and women could never be friends without sex getting in the way. Daryl wasn’t sure about the sex part, but he was finding that they were exchanging flirtatious remarks and that was both exciting and humorous. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t entirely dislike what had been said that night. He’d been given what he’d put down as a huge compliment and got to tell Emily he thought she was pretty, which he very much did.

“You flirt with me too, y’know.” He mumbled.

“I know. I’ll stop.” She replied.

He didn’t want her to stop at all. Just like he didn’t want to stop drawing shy smiles out of her and watching the bridge of her nose turn pink when he managed to come up with something sneaky enough to be voiced. It was becoming the highlight of many of his days and if she stopped, he would miss it.

“Em?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Don’t stop flirtin’ with me.”

Their lives were changing and with the complexities of teenage life to contend with, they were both now faced with something else; their changing feelings for one another. Having never believed they deserved anything more than simple survival, neither one of them felt they had anything to offer, nothing that would enrich the life of the object of their affections past what they were already doing as friends.

Daryl was neck deep in his brother’s illegal drug activities and constantly getting into fights. He rarely attended classes and when he did, he couldn’t concentrate. Emily was much the same although she delighted in the teasing of her teachers and the exciting promise of skipping gym class to go and get high with Daryl. They’d tried their best, given it their all and they were still standing, but the weight of their childhoods and the lasting effect of their abuse still marred their lives like a scratch on a windowpane and no matter how much it was polished or how concealed it became, it still tarnished something that once was so clear and pure.

Emily pulled herself closer to the box and picked up the cards, shuffling them slowly in her hands and replaying Daryl’s last sentence in her head. Over and over. Eventually, she looked up to find him observing her with a steady glare and she felt a massive wave of smugness. Daryl had shown interest in one girl, so much so, that he'd gone as far as to request she wear less clothes. That girl wasn't someone from his English class or a Movie star. That girl was Emily. 

“Only if you don’t stop flirting with me” She announced bravely.

“Got yaself a deal.” He smiled.


	9. The Hallway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some mildly steamy angst :) 
> 
> Remember, this is a different Daryl to the TV show and to most of the other stories I've written. He's troubled and damaged like the show but this takes his character to extremes and throws in his sexuality. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for any comments and Kudos, it means the world to me. <3

_**Now** _

Daryl wasn’t the garden party type, especially when it came to mingling with the kinds of people that had looked down on him and judged his family for most of his life. They did double-takes at his tatty clothing, his unwashed and messy hair and they recoiled in disgust at his foul language. Greg’s family was compiled of nothing but those kinds of people and after the Wedding, Daryl hoped he would not have to make nice with such a judgemental crowd again. Then, he was invited by Emily to attend a party in the grounds of their enormous, suburban home that they apparently didn’t even need a reason for but Emily had made out that it was for those that couldn't attend the wedding.

As he wandered along the sweeping, oval driveway, passing the fountain in the middle, he pondered what it must be like to be able to throw random, expensive parties on a whim. He concluded that although his own life was one of chaos and darkness for the majority of the time. He didn’t want for much and knew that the very few things he held dear couldn’t be bought with money and that’s because there weren’t things at all. They were people.

Under his arm, he carried a handcrafted wedding present in a wooden box that he hoped would be better late than never due to the trouble he’d had while trying to finish it. He’d always been good with his hands. From a young age his older brother had made sure he knew how to fix basic issues on motorcycles and taught him how to hunt, fish and carve as soon as he was able to hold the tools without any help. He didn’t have a great deal of money and that meant he had to use his imagination when it came to a wedding present, but he was confident in the fact that his could be no worse than Jens- A pizza stone. He’d almost laughed when she’d proudly announced her gift idea over dinner at her apartment one night. He'd delighted in telling her that a pizza stone was the type of gift that sits in a person’s house, never to be seen again and that all it will do is take up space at the back of a cupboard for the rest of eternity. She frowned at him, punched him in the arm and proceeded to press ‘buy’ on the website of which the Pizza stone was being sold at a steal of a price.

He could hear voices, the laughing of children and the clinking of glasses when he reached the porch and for a moment, his hand hit the white pillar in front of him and after closing his eyes, he bowed his head and a flash of a memory from the wedding replayed in his mind. How she danced with her new husband, offering him fake smiles and insincere promises while trying to avoid Daryl’s broken and longing stares. His spirit crushed a little more with every small kiss she placed on Greg’s lips. The event that occurred before she had said her vows knocked whatever life there was left in Daryl into oblivion and ever since, his quiet and brooding nature had been exacerbated and he’d barely spoken to anyone, even ignoring Jen’s phone calls. But he was aware that he had no choice but to attempt to forget the most profound moment of his life and so, he took a deep breath and continued to the door, jabbing the button for the doorbell and leaning back on the pillar.

The chime was almost that of a church bell and he could hear that it rang obnoxiously though the house. He waited, wondering if he should have just snuck into the party through the back way, ending up in the middle of everything and avoiding the likelihood of someone he didn’t know answering the door. But it was too late and footsteps were clunking along the shiny, spotless floor inside the house.

When the door opened, he was surprised to find Jen staring back at him. Her bright red hair even more vivid than it was when he’d last seen her. She wore linen, wide-legged black pants and a white tank top with beaded embellishments. Around her head was a black and red Alice band, holding her hair up into a pineapple-shaped bun.

“Dixon. You’re alive.” She remarked in obvious surprise. Her tone was laced with slight irritation at the many phone calls he’d ignored and the text message he had read but failed to answer in the week following the wedding. 

“Apparently so.” He grumbled.

Jen stepped aside and beckoned him inside with a hand in a sweeping gesture. The smell of food lingered in the house and Daryl’s stomach grumbled. He’d not wanted to eat much in the last seven days and it was beginning to show in his face, his jawline was more defined and Jen noticed straight away.

“Stop right there.” She ordered, slapping a hand on his chest and narrowing her eyes as she studied his face. “You lit?”

“No.” He grunted.

“Not had a little trip with Snow White?” She asked.

“Jesus, Jen. No, alright?” he complained wearily.

“You look tired.” She commented.

“For god sakes! S’cause I am!” He protested “That aint no crime. Got laid last night so I didn't get much sleep. I know it looks like it, but I aint on coke. I promise.”

She tilted her head back, looking down her nose at him and pursing her lips, her mind working overtime with the aim to avoid a showdown if she was to let Daryl into the party. He had proved on a number of occasions that drugs had him on a tight leash and the only people that were able to loosen it, were Jen and Emily. He’d made many mistakes, piled up regrets and hurt people along the way, but Daryl’s journey into the devastating world of illegal drugs had only been born out of his own unresolved trauma.

“Fine” Jen growled “But if you start anything here, I will call you a lot of mean words.”

“One hell of a threat, right there.” He mocked with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s after I rip out your collarbones and shove 'em up your ass.” She grinned.

“There it is, the class you bring to every occasion.” He grumbled as he wandered into the house and heard the door close behind him.

Greg emerged from the left of the vast and wide hallway with a bright smile on his face and his fair hair slicked back. His crisp, pastel blue shirt, white pants and loafers made him look like the fastidious, strait-laced, never-did-wrong irritation that Daryl knew he wanted everyone to believe.

_You aint the fuckin’ square you want everybody to think you are._ He thought. _I'm watchin' you._

“Daryl!” Greg cried, a little too over the top for Jen’s liking, Daryl was sure he saw her cringe visibly in his peripheral vision.

Raising his arms and going in for a hug, Greg’s face dropped when Daryl stepped back and cleared his throat.

“Oh, you’re not a hugger. I keep forgetting.” he admitted while switching his gesture in favour of holding out a hand. Daryl took it, giving it a firm shake and raising his gaze to the man that had married his best friend. He didn’t seem outwardly untrustworthy or sinister and he had even gone out of his way to help Daryl with his addiction problems, but try as he might, Daryl could not shake the notion that something just wasn’t right with him.

Reluctant to spend too much time enduring painful small talk, he dislodged the wooden box from under his arm and offered it to Emily’s new husband, sensing Jen step nearer out of curiosity.

“Here. Weddin’ gift. Sorry I didn’t give it to ya on the day, it wasn’t finished.” Daryl told him. Greg set the box on a side table that housed a couple of magazines and opened the lid. Peering inside, his smile grew wider and Jen inched closer still.

Reaching inside, he lifted out a perfectly painted mailbox with Emily and Greg’s now shared last name, Porter, carved into the side. He’d chosen colours to match the house and its window shutters and in a small nod to Emily, included a tiny, wooden bird in flight on the top. The whole thing was weather treated and had the smell of recently dried paint.

Greg, who was completely captivated by it, held the gift aloft and slowly turned it around, taking in each small detail of the intricately carved pattern along the bottom and the attention to detail that had been put into the width and spacing of their name, making it appear as though it had been finished by a machine rather than a person’s hands.

“You-you made this?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Saw that yours got blown to shit in the storm last month. I know ya got a replacement already, so ya don’t gotta use it. Sorry it’s late.” Daryl explained.

Jen, who was stood off to the side failed to hide how impressed she was with Daryl’s talent for making things and wished that one day, he would put it to good use and start his own business. But every time she brought up the subject, he merely brushed her off with a gruff, inaudible excuse.

“Oh, that replacement was only temporary anyway. This is quite amazing. Thank you very much, Daryl. Emily will love this.”

“No problem.” He sighed awkwardly as Emily swept into the hall in a long, khaki, fitted dress with a halterneck that he couldn't help but notice was composed of thin, clingy material. Her hair was down in loose curls and in her hand she held a large, orange coloured cocktail and wasted no time in racing towards Daryl and flinging her arms around him.

“Hey you” She greeted, her breath warming a patch on his shoulder and setting the hair on the back of his neck on end while Greg’s eyes lowered to where he held her hips with ease in both hands, his fingertips slightly digging into her flesh as though she was the most precious thing he’d ever held and he never wanted to let go. Daryl held his breath, unable to handle the enticing and all too familiar scent of her shampoo and the memories it evoked.

“Honey” Greg said, cutting through Daryl and Emily’s overwhelming hug. “Look what Daryl made us as a wedding present.”

Emily whirled around and her mouth fell open at the sight when Greg placed their gift into her hands. Ignoring most of the box, she immediately traced her fingertips over the one thing that Daryl knew she wouldn’t be able to resist; the small wooden bird with it’s wings open.

“This is beautiful” She uttered to herself. While Emily was captivated by the box and exchanging hushed comments of approval with Jen.

“Quite something, huh?” Greg mused “This is real talent, Daryl. Are you professionally trained in carpentry?”

“Nah. My brother taught me. He can make some pretty cool shit, way better than me.”

Jen wasn’t expecting Emily to shove the box into her arms, but when she did, it was because of her frantic need to wrap herself around Daryl and kiss the side of his face. Uncomfortable in Greg’s presence with his wife stuck to him like a leech, Daryl’s ears turned pink as he felt himself blush and quickly tried to force the feeling away.

“Thank you” Emily whispered into his ear.

Steering everyone into the Kitchen, Greg sorted through the refrigerator in search of the brand of beer that he knew Daryl liked. Bottles clinked and packets rustled until he finally managed to grab one from the back of a shelf and slammed the door shut. Emily and Jen made tracks outside to the party to show off the amazing mailbox that Daryl had made. The guests swarmed them, bending down and squinting at the detail of the bird, some took pictures and Emily stood proudly in front of her new acquisition, catching Daryl’s eye briefly as he watched through the window.

“So, how are you? We haven’t had a chat in a while.” Greg wanted to know. He popped the cap on the bottle and handed it to Daryl, who had barely grasped it properly before it was tilted to his lips and a quarter of the contents was consumed. He levelled his gaze at the well put together man in front of him and took his time to compile a response. Greg had a physician’s habit of dressing things up in certain ways to stop his patients from panicking and often, Daryl saw him exercise the same skill with Emily. But he never fell for it and wasn’t about to beat around the bush. Greg wasn’t enquiring about his general wellbeing; he was probing at something a lot more specific than that.

“You mean in general or am I off the drugs n’ staying outta jail?” Daryl responded, getting straight to the point in a thinly veiled, irritated manner.

“Both, I suppose.” Greg replied as he joined him at the window, looking out over the back yard full of guests all picking at finger food and drinking punch.

“Not seen the inside of a cop car or a rolled up Dollar Bill in weeks. Thought Em would have told ya that.” Daryl disclosed. It was the truth and if he had to, he wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain how he’d made it through the week since the wedding without so much as a few beers and a mailbox to make.

“She did tell me, she did. I’m just making sure. I’m glad you’re doing well. I know she worries about you.” He expressed.

“Well, she aint gotta. M’fine.” Daryl quickly dismissed.

It hadn’t been his choice to involve Greg in his recovery but what Emily decided usually happened and Daryl was in no fit state to protest when he’d called her cell in a blind panic while on the side of a road in the middle of the night, out of his mind on cocaine and rambling about his plans to rob a convenience store because someone stole all of his money. Greg stepped in with his expertise and after three weeks and some constant monitoring, Daryl could say he was officially off drugs.

“Did you attend any of the groups or therapy I suggested?” Greg enquired. 

“Naw. No offence, man. But I don’t need any of that self-pitying shit.” Daryl scoffed. It was the response that Greg predicted and he told himself that if Daryl was going to go anywhere near therapy, Emily would have to be the one to convince him.

“It might help to keep an open mind, is all I’m saying.” He clarified.

“Yeah. Maybe. Look, I kept the pamphlets, alright? I’ll use ‘em if I need to but right now, I’m good.” Daryl confirmed.

“OK. Uh…How is your mood these days?” Greg continued to question while taking a sip of his beer.

“What? Fine. Why?”

“It’s just…long-term cocaine users like yourself, they can experience low moods, depression, suicidal thoughts, that kind of thing.”

Low moods were not a new experience to Daryl. His whole life had been one, long, low mood but he was more than aware that recently, there was one thing and one thing only that was contributing to it; having to watch the woman he loved being married to someone else and that someone else seemingly being a pretty decent guy. It was inevitable when such a touchy subject was addressed, Daryl's temper flared a little and he sucked in a deep breath to calm himself before answering.

“Just get angry sometimes. Always did. S’what happens when ya ol’ man beats the holy crap outta ya as a kid.” He snapped, in the hope that it was evident enough that he had neither the desire or the patience to talk about it.

“Of course.” Greg agreed “You’ll tell me, if you ever feel like you’re losing control, won’t you? I can help you.”

Part of Daryl wanted Greg to be the bad guy. To be concealing some kind of huge secret that would blow the doors off his marriage to Emily so she would run back into his arms just like all the other times before, all the failed relationships and all the hurt. But Emily was happy, or at least that’s what she told him and the impression she gave everyone else and so, Daryl concluded that he would rather have her this way than moving from one painful relationship to the next and seeking his comfort in between.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He sighed.

After a brief pat on the shoulder that made Daryl’s muscles tense, Greg left the room and Emily noticed when he joined her that Daryl was alone in the kitchen. She smiled at him through the window and wandered inside. He moved to the back of the room, scanning a noticeboard with her writing ideas pinned to it and Greg’s schedule from the hospital. She silently took up the spot next to him and rested a hand on the marble surface of the kitchen island. From their position in the room, the view of the back yard was obscured.

Even with a certain amount of distance separating them, he could still smell the delicious, intoxicating fragrance of her hair and wanted nothing more than to turn and run his fingers through it. He looked sideways at her, finding that she was staring right back at him with her lips parted and her eyes bright. Her chest rose and fell under the halter neck top of her dress and nestled at the top of the valley between her breasts, was the locket he’d bought her. He tried to drag his eyes away, tried to focus on something else so he could avoid ogling her but instead, his vision lowered to her chest, then to the visually pleasing curve of her waist and hips. He took in the sight of her in her entirety and she let him, noting the obvious nature in which he did it. Like everything around him fell away and they were no longer standing in her kitchen at a party, like they were back in the hotel room and he was seeing her exposed and silky skin for the first time. Daryl’s head was full of thoughts that he’d supressed for so long and would have to for the rest of his life.

_I wanna touch you so bad._

Something stirred in her lower abdomen, then lower still, a pulsing of faint pleasure and she blinked and flinched but Daryl didn’t move. Statue still except for his eyes, he still looked her up and down, taking his time and feeling a spike of satisfaction when he saw her breathing quicken and her cheeks glow with colour. She bent one leg and shifted her weight, the bare skin of one thigh being revealed through a slit in the side of her dress. He slowly licked his lips and she released a jagged breath, her nipples behind the thin fabric of her dress provoked into hardening by his powerful glare that said everything without saying it at all. Without thinking it through, he subtly lifted a hand and grazed the back of his hand across the top of her thigh, the sensation of her warm skin sending an intense ache of longing through him. Her body shivered and she closed her eyes and Daryl fought with everything he had to halt the rapidly diminishing space in his pants.

_God, I wish I could fuck you on that kitchen counter right now._

She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. Before he could begin to make sense of it, they were standing face to face in the hallway, both of them now bordering on breathless and with eyes still locked together. Believing that he needed to at least try and say something to snap them both out of the trance they’d entered into, Daryl tried to speak but what rolled from his tongue did little to change the situation.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous” He breathed.

He didn’t have time to evaluate if his comment was a good or a bad thing because she was suddenly running the fingertips of one hand over his bare bicep, tickling over the muscular terrain and bringing her lower lip back to be clamped under her teeth.

“It’s an Artic Tern.” She said under her breath.

He figured it wouldn’t take her long to realise that the bird he’d carved onto the mailbox was, in fact, an Artic Tern. The one bird she said she would want to be so she could fly away over a distance long enough to escape the reality of her fractured and abusive world.

“Yeah.” He rasped, hazarding a step closer to her. His one, small step seemed to switch something in her and the hand with which she was feeling over his upper arm clamped around it and she dragged him to her at the same time as backing up against the hallway wall. His body crashed to hers and his hands instinctively went to her hips. With barely an inch separating their faces, they both stilled and only their laboured breaths could be heard as a silent message was exchanged in their eyes. Daryl’s hands began to roam, journeying up and over her breasts, squeezing her nipples between the inside of his thumbs and his hands as he kneaded them. Her eyes closed and she thudded her head back against the expensive wallpaper, her body arching towards him, telling him she wanted more. He didn’t attempt to kiss her, only keeping his eyes level with hers and when she opened them again, she clung to his arms and gasped when he eased both hands into the front of her dress. Skin on skin, fingers rolling over her breasts, sending a shockwave between her legs with his eyes watching every flicker of her reaction.

One hand dropped to the slit in the fabric at her thigh as she raised her leg and he worked his way inside, she swallowed hard in anticipation while he drew his fingertips along her inner thigh, stopping short of touching her anywhere else. He tilted his head back and she heard a subtle growl form in his throat.

“Please” She blurted out in a quiet pant.

Then, the kitchen door slammed and rapid footsteps shot towards them. Daryl tore away from her, glancing down at the huge bulge in his jeans and swearing under his breath while Emily re-adjusted her dress and blinked in quick succession as if she were trying to bring herself back from the brink.

“Aunt Emily! Aunt Emily!” Came a small voice that got louder and louder until a small girl in a floaty, pink flowery dress bounced into the hallway and grabbed Emily’s hand. “Uncle Greg wants you. He said they’re doing toasts.”

Emily plastered her best fake smile on her face and told the girl to go back outside, assuring her that she would be out in a minute. When the girl left, Daryl caught Emily’s eye once again.

“That’s Greg’s niece. I gotta…” she started, pointing in the direction of the doorway.

“Go” He told her. She nodded and he watched as she went to walk through the doorway, stopped, dragged a hand through her hair, went to say something and then vanished. He released a loud sigh and tried to make sense of what had transpired in the last few minutes. His head was spinning, his body was flooded with testosterone and his heart was aching.

The toast was over in a matter of minutes and once Daryl had managed to get rid of his erection and the idea that such an occurrence with Emily could happen again, he lingered on the sidelines of the crowd. Jen sat by his side for the majority of the afternoon while they both actively avoided getting involved in any of the games that were being played. Emily happily involved herself in everything, making a marked effort to appear as the perfect, social host when Daryl and Jen both knew that the act she was putting on would soon run thin when evening set in. Eventually, Daryl got up to grab another drink, favouring the bottled beer over the homemade punch. When he closed the refrigerator in the kitchen and turned to head back outside, he was met by Emily, closing the door behind her.

“Hi” She whispered uneasily.

“Hey.” He twisted the cap on the bottle, tossed it in the garbage bag that hung on one of the chairs at the island and brought his gaze back to her. “You okay?” He asked.

“I’m sorry” She said, moving closer to him. “About earlier. That was-it was wrong. You told me, you said never to come onto you like that again.”

“Pretty sure it was both of us, not just you. I'm as much to blame. I shouldn’t have…touched ya…like I did-or, uh, or at all.” He stammered, surprised by how awkward he sounded no matter how hard he tried to compose himself. 

“Forget about it?” She suggested while wringing her hands in front of her.

“Yeah. Sure.” He agreed. But Daryl would not forget about it. He would dream about it, fantasise about it and picture it in his head when he missed her, when he wanted to touch her, when he needed to hear her gasp but as far as Emily was concerned, he had to make out that it had been nothing but a mishap, albeit a major one.

“Thank you. For being here. I know parties aren’t your thing, especially parties with a bunch of people you don’t know.” She smiled

“I know you. That’s good enough for me.” He told her.

“I heard Greg grilling you earlier. About being sober. I’m sorry.” She offered. Greg’s efforts to help Daryl were sincere in her eyes but she still couldn’t ignore how tough it was for Daryl to open up to someone he barely knew, despite him being a Doctor. Daryl merely grumbled and scuffed his boot along the shiny, tiled floor. Emily waited for him to say something, sensing that he was building up to it. When he finally looked at her, she saw sadness in his eyes.

“It ain’t easy.” He confessed.

And it wasn’t. Boredom kicked in on some nights, anxiety on others. Or, he would get flashbacks or feel intense bouts of anger that he couldn’t explain. Oftentimes, and he would never admit it to the likes of Greg, but he just didn’t feel safe when he was sober.

“I know. You’ll talk to me, right? I know you won’t talk much to Greg or a stranger but you and me, that’s what we do, we talk about things, right?” She reasoned.

He took a long gulp of his beer, telling himself that if he didn’t slow down, he wouldn’t be able to drive back to the house and that meant he would have to make nice with Greg again the following morning.

“Sposed to.” He shrugged.

“What does that mean?” she asked with worried eyes.

“Nothin’.”

“Oh” She sighed deeply “You mean what happened earlier.”

“No.” He countered, feeling guilty for even considering that she would ever want to pick apart the details and reasoning for why they’d ended up in two sexual situations after years of being nothing more than friends. “I don’t mean that. I just mean it’s hard tellin’ you ‘bout how badly I fuck up.”

She placed her hand on his arm and he instantly flinched away. Physical contact between them had complicated things enough for one day and he wasn’t sure if he could handle anymore, even if it was just her fingers resting on his forearm. Her eyes lowered and she nodded as if he didn’t have to tell her what he was thinking; she just knew anyway.

“You know I’ll never judge you.” She assured him. “I’ve fucked up too. A lot. You were always there for me.”

“I’m clean, Em. S’all ya need to know. Had a few beers this week but nothin’ to worry ‘bout” He summarised, wanting to move the conversation on if he were going to be forced to stand before her in such a tight and revealing dress and such a vivid recollection of what it felt like to cover her breasts with his hands and see her melt in his grasp. “So, how’s married life?”

“Fine. It’s… fine.” She replied. The uncertainty in her voice was not lost on him and he dipped his head, encouraging her to look him in the face so he could read her expression.

“Aren’t ya sposed to be all loved up and in the honeymoon period or some shit?” He questioned.

“We are. Loved up. Yeah. We-we are.” She rambled. Realising how badly disguised her lie was, she rolled her eyes and huffed.

“But…?” He pressed.

“I can’t talk to you about it.” She dismissed with a wave of her hand. She turned and skirted around the kitchen island, throwing open a cupboard and selecting a glistening wine glass from the shelf.

“What? Why not?” He wanted to know while watching her tug a bottle of white wine from the floor to ceiling wine cooler in the corner. She clawed at the plastic wrapping around the neck of the wine vessel, finally dislodged it and tossed it on the island’s countertop. The bottle glugged loudly as she filled the glass, slammed the bottle on the surface and downed most of the glass.

“Because it’s awkward.” She spat out after making herself breathless with such a large gulp.

“Just said yaself that we talk about stuff. That’s what we do.” He reminded her, figuring that it worked both ways. He could see her pondering it, her lips pushing to one side as she thought.

“Ok, fine” But I warned you.” She said firmly, holding her glass by her lips with her index finger pointing at him. “It’s… the sex… it’s not good.”

“Oh. Uh, why?”

It was not what he was expecting but a big part of him was curious. Curious to find out what Greg was lacking that he wasn’t. He wasn’t arrogant enough to assume that he’d make the earth shake for Emily at the wedding, but he was as sure as the day was long that he didn’t hear her complain once about anything. He was even sure that whatever had happened between them in the hallway, she enjoyed it enough not to stop him until they were interrupted. He couldn’t bare to imagine how far things would have gone if Greg’s niece hadn’t bounded in with her announcement and until he was alone, he wasn’t going to risk it.

“I don’t know. We don’t connect. It’s like there’s no chemistry.” She complained. Her glass had become empty and she wasted no time in topping it up again. Daryl wondered how much punch she’d had and if it explained the topic of conversation.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why’d ya marry him if there’s no chemistry?” He asked.

“There was at first. Just, not now.” She responded, appearing a little more annoyed than she would have liked had she not just necked an entire glass of wine in minutes. In her heart, she knew it was because Daryl was the only one that she’d ever felt such passion with and regret began to seep into her mind. She was married, promised to another man and even if she wasn’t, she wanted more for him than she could ever give. She didn’t need to protect Greg from her unpredictability, from her bad decision making, from her weaknesses and her demons. He’d led a life that had equipped him with the skills to cope when Daryl had developed whatever skills he had by himself. He’d been through too much to be lumbered with the burden that was her and her past.

“Ya talked to him?” Daryl queried.

“Yeah, he says he feels a connection. I guess it’s just me. I’m broken.”

“Shut up. Ya ain’t broken.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”

“Why not? Used to tell me all kinds of personal shit ‘bout ya other boyfriends.” He pointed out. Even though she had Jen, Daryl was still the one she turned to for everything, including affairs of the heart. Her own feelings for him ran so deep that she didn’t trust anyone else but it also meant that she was constantly confused and conflicted.

“That was before we did the-the thing and then the…um, the groping” she stammered, her hands hovering over her chest before she shook her head and leaned forwards on the countertop “It’s just difficult when I know…” She trailed off, checking his expression and finding him totally immersed in what she was saying. She was treading on thin ice and for a moment, put herself in Greg’s shoes. She would be devastated if she found him to be in a similar situation behind her back. “…never mind.”

“Tell me.” He encouraged, skirting around the island and moving closer to her.

“The way you touch me…it’s just…everything. He can’t-he can’t do that. It doesn’t have the same effect.” She admitted sadly.

Daryl cast his mind back to the night before when he had been drinking in the same bar that he visited twice that week. It did nothing to aid his recovery process but when a pretty blonde approached him, he decided it was worth staying. After he bought her a drink and spent a couple of hours avoiding all of her questions about him and his life, he figured that that sleeping with another woman might well be the remedy he needed to take his mind off of the wedding and allow him to move on. She’d been eager, so much so that he had barely closed his bedroom door before she was tugging at his belt and shoving her hands in his pants. 

“Yeah. Probably shouldn’t say this but It’s the same for me.” He admitted “took a girl home from the bar last night. Was nothin’. Borin’. It wasn’t her, she was real enthusiastic. I just wished I never bothered. Wasn’t the same.”

In the knowledge that neither of them had managed to seek out such a satisfying pleasure in another person, they both hovered around one another in silence for a few moments. Daryl drummed at the marble surface with his fingertips and Emily downed her second glass of wine.

“What do we do?” She eventually asked.

“Nothin’. Just gotta move past it.” He told her “We should um, stop talkin’ ‘bout it too. What’s done is done. You’re married and it ain’t like nothin’ could ever come of it anyways. Just… talk to Greg. I’m sure you can work somethin’ out. Just spare me the details.”

“Okay.” She whispered while offering him a small smile. Following Emily’s lead, Daryl glugged down the remainder of his beer and thudded the bottle on the side. He dragged the back of his hand across his lips and suppressed a burp.

“I’ma head home.” He announced “Say bye to Jen n’ Greg for me. Thanks for the invite.”

His self-control was beginning to wane and although he knew it was the alcohol and her slinky, dark green dress and the way she looked at him like she wanted to spend all day in bed with him, he needed to remove himself from the situation for her sake as well as his sobriety. He made for the doorway to the hall and was stopped by the need to assure her of something.

“Em?” She turned to see him glancing over his shoulder at her. “I won’t ever touch ya like that again. I promise. I've been a hypocrite. M'sorry."

Before she could say anything else, he was gone and she was left with nothing but the tingling reminder that swept across the skin of her chest and inner thigh when she thought back to where his hands had been. She wanted to run after him and for a fleeting moment, she almost threw everything away, including her concern for him and what he deserved. She wanted to give in, she wanted his hands on her body and his lips on her skin and his heart pounding against hers. But it wasn’t right, it never had been and no matter what the future held for her, she knew that she would always do everything in her power to make sure that he ended up with someone better than she could ever be.


	10. The Renouncing

_**Then** _

Emily’s mother never took kindly to backchat and for the majority of the time, Emily Kept her mouth shut and her wits about her when she was at home. She rarely spent too much time there if she could help it, preferring to spend most of her time with Daryl at his place or at The Shack. She knew it was difficult for Daryl to watch her still having to bear the brunt of her mother’s rage as she navigated her teenage years and so, he kept her under his wing for as long as possible and made sure she knew she was welcome at his house by getting her a key.

The death of Daryl and a Merle’s father had changed their world and as a result, the two of them entered into a prolonged celebration of drugs and alcohol with their house becoming party central for every down and out and undesirable the neighbourhood had to offer. Daryl could party with the best of them but for the most part, he preferred to be alone or with Emily, wanting to avoid the dramas of his junkie filled house.

Money was always an issue for Emily’s mother. The cupboards were bare and the electricity was frequently turned off due to unpaid bills. Some nights, Emily would shiver so badly, she thought her bones might turn to ice. Daryl and Merle were able to keep themselves fed through their hunting skills and every Wednesday and Sunday night; Emily would join them for a stew made form whatever they’d managed to hunt that week. It was an arrangement her mother had discovered with much disgust that had been expressed by pushing Emily into the kitchen table, winding her and leaving her gasping for air on the cold, hard floor. Through her thin, wrinkled lips, she hissed insults and curse words at her daughter, who could only stare at the floor while she tried to catch her breath.

“What you doin’ to make them feed ya anywaysss? Givin’ somethin’ up? Ain’t nothin’ comesss for free. No wonder that Dixon boy is all over you. I always knew you’d be a little ssslut.”

It wasn’t the first time Emily had heard such an idea. The halls of her school were always humming with teenagers wondering how Daryl and Emily could be so close at their age without crossing any lines and her mother often threw it in her face. Fuelled by a jealous rage that her daughter was seeking shelter and food from somewhere that wasn’t home, she drove her boot into Emily’s stomach, causing her to cry out and grasp desperately up at the kitchen countertop. Agony radiated from her abdomen and tears filled her eyes as her vision swept up to the angry woman looming over her with a bottle of vodka gripped in her hand. The clear liquid sloshed against the inside of the bottle as she continued her tirade.

“Maybe you wanna tell me where my god damn money went?! Huh?! Ya know where I kept it n’ now it’sss gone! Took it n’ ssspent it on ya little boyfriend?!”

Emily dragged herself across the floor. Dust, cigarette packets and beer cans pinned under her body and she managed to grab a hold of the handle of a drawer. She didn’t have a clue about the money, nor did she ever understand the reasons why violence was always the first port of call for her disturbed, alcoholic mother.

“Where’s my money, you little whore?!”

“M-Maybe y-your stu-stupid boyfriend took it.” Emily spluttered while successfully twisted her body around and sitting back against the drawers. With all her might and trying her best to shove aside the throbbing pain in her stomach, she hauled herself up and leaned against the countertop only to be subject to a stinging slap across the face that was delivered with a surprising amount of force for someone so drunk. She blinked the pain away and opened her mouth, stretching her jaw. A wet sensation along her cheek bone caught her attention and she dabbed at it with her fingertips. Blood. She had been hit so hard with fingers full of tacky, cheap jewellery that her skin was split.

“Get outta my god damn houssse!” Her mother yelled, throwing an arm up in the direction of the door “You aint welcome here no more. All you do iss remind me of that fuckin’ sssommbitch of a daddy of yoursss. You aint no daughter of mine!”

Emily staggered from the countertop and out of the room while her mother continued to bellow at her. By then, she had stopped listening and was already thinking over the options of where she should go and what she should take with her, certain that even if her mother didn’t mean what she was saying, she didn’t want to live in that house with that woman anymore.

* * *

Daryl and Merles father had died as Daryl entered the toughest period of his teenage years and Merle was serving a stint in prison. A heroin overdose was the cause and a sense of relief from most of the people that knew him was the reaction. All of a sudden, the house was safer and Daryl didn’t have to tread on eggshells anymore. But the ghosts of his past remained when he dreamed or caught sight of his scars in the mirror and his trauma still festered in the darkness inside his head. Upon his release into the free world, Merle made sure that he and his brother enjoyed every second of his newfound freedom and the parties and indulgence in illegal substances had both a positive and negative effect on Daryl. He rarely attended high school at first and most of his time was passed while drunk or high.

When Emily let herself into the Dixon house one night, she found Merle fast asleep on the couch wearing only his boxers and with a naked woman sprawled over his lap. The floor was littered with beer cans and drug paraphernalia and the room had the pungent odour of smoke, marijuana and unwashed bodies. The coffee table was covered in white powder, bags of weed and pills. Emily picked her way through the living room without stirring the older Dixon brother and made her way to Daryl’s room.

Posters of rock bands covered ripped wallpaper and damp, blackened patches of wall and any flat surfaces were crowded with hunting and fishing supplies, bits of wood, carving tools and the odd flyer for a concert. Daryl’s room was the largest of what was once a three-bedroom house. Then, Merle knocked their father’s bedroom down and turned it into a garage in which he could work on his motorcycle.

Emily pushed the door open and wandered inside, dumping her back pack on Daryl’s unmade bed and slumping down onto the quilt. The room appeared empty and she wondered where he could be at such a late hour of the night, she rarely did anything without Daryl and the same could be said of him. A quiet sniffle from the other side of the bed caught her attention and she whirled around, spotting Daryl in the corner of the room, hugging his knees and sweating profusely. The carpet around him boasted claw marks, as if he’d been dragging his fingers through the pile. His face was frozen into a kind of terror that Emily could only imagine came from hallucinations, his eyes were wide and his skin was pallid and her heart started to thunder in her chest as she scrambled over the bed and dropped to the floor in front of him, lightly placing her hands on either side of his head. He flinched and drew his knees into a tighter embrace. His eyes moved to hers but it was as thought he was looking straight through her.

“Daryl? What did you take?” She asked him quietly, keeping her voice at a low and soothing level so as not to startle him anymore.

“W-Water.” He croaked

“What? No, what did you take? What drugs did you take?” She pressed, urging him to speak to her by nodding at him.

“I-I need water.”

“Not until you tell me what drugs you’ve taken.” She told him.

“I don’t… urgh.” He grunted, dropping his head to his knees and starting to rock back and forth. “Nnnnmnrgh.”

Emily stayed where she was and held Daryl’s hand until she sensed him begin to relax. Time passed but she had no idea how much, just that her legs were numb and her eyes were starting to feel heavy. Eventually, she managed to coax him into letting her put her arms under his and hoist him up onto his bed. His body was a dead weight and everything he said was incomprehensible but she ignored his nonsensical babble as she removed his T-shirt and sweatpants and tucked him under the covers, leaving his torso exposed to the air to cool him down.

After climbing from the bed, stripping to her panties and pulling on a white tank top from her bag, she slid under the covers beside Daryl and softly trailed her fingertips down the side of his face. It had been three weeks since she discovered that her feelings for him ran much deeper than that of a friendship and now every time that she looked at him, she couldn’t help but think how attractive he was. He murmured in his sleep and to her surprise, nuzzled against her hand. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to slide closer to him, fit into his arms and kiss his lips. But she didn’t dare. Instead, she snoozed on and off for the entire night, waking occasionally to check on his breathing.

In the morning, Daryl was the first to stir and his eyes flickered open in response to the light that glowed beyond the tattered drapes. He groaned at the pain behind his eyes and stretched his limbs, stilling when his leg brushed up against something soft. Turning his head to the side, he saw Emily. Her dirty blonde hair obscured half of her face and he couldn’t help but stare at her. He’d seen her sleep a million times before, held her in his arms when she’d needed him, and even flirted with her more times than he could count but there was something about the way the light cast over her perfect skin that fixed his attention on her and made his lips lift into a smile.

“Em?” He whispered.

Her eyes slowly opened and she reached out a hand under the covers, curling her fingers around his bicep and giving it a slight squeeze. Mirroring his smile, she lifted her head from the pillow and dragged herself up in the bed. She crossed her legs under her and studied his sleepy face and messy hair.

“Are you okay? You were tripping pretty bad last night.” She asked.

“Mm. Think so.” He grumbled while rubbing his eyes “What ya doin here? What happened to ya face?”

“My mom kicked me out. I came to tell you I’d be staying in the shack for a while and I need to use your shower. But when I got here Merle was fast asleep and there was a butt naked lady in your living room. I found you in the corner down there…” she pointed to the area of flattened carpet surrounded by scratches “… like some sweaty, scared rabbit.”

“Shit.” He grumbled, hauling his exhausted body up to a sitting position. “Fuckin’ acid.” Emily just watched him, allowing herself to take in the sight of his bare skin and telling herself that she’d earned this small reward. “Wait, ya mom kicked ya out? Ya stayin in the- naw! What the hell?! Ya ain’t stayin in the damn shack, Em!” he exclaimed.

“I have to.” She shrugged. “I’ll be fine”

“No. Ya livin’ here with me.” He said firmly.

“I can’t do that. What about Merle? This is his house too.” She reasoned. In truth, she hoped that she could stay at the Dixon house. Being able to live alongside Daryl, the one person that made her feel safe, was exactly what she’d needed after so many years of abuse at the hands of her mother and her boyfriends. She didn’t mind Merle either, he was nice enough to her if she ignored the comments he made about her closeness to Daryl. But she couldn’t assume and for the time being, the shack would have sufficed.

“Fuck Merle!” Daryl snapped “I ain’t havin’ ya livin in the fuckin’ woods! Listen to yourself, that’s crazy.”

“But… you don’t have a spare room anymore. Merle turned it into a garage”

“You can stay in here.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“In here with ya.”

She couldn’t help it, her eyebrow raised and her mind went into overdrive. Sleeping in the same bed as Daryl on a regular basis? No matter how sure she was of their friendship, she couldn’t be certain that such an arrangement would be that far away from torture. A constant reminder of something she could never quite have the way she wanted.

“Oh.” She grunted.

The penny dropped when Daryl clocked her awkward and unsure expression. He placed a hand over hers and caught her eye. He wasn’t sure when the way he looked at her had changed, only that it had done so quite suddenly and out of nowhere, he felt differently about her. He still loved her as his friend, his confidant and the one person he trusted more than anyone. Only at some point, she became more than that and he couldn’t quite shake the notion that his feelings were stronger than ever. He touched her more as the months turned into years and she let him, even returning his affectionate gestures as smiling shyly when he flirted with her. He tried not to see her in a sexual way but he was a teenage boy fuelled by testosterone and having a girl so close to him, so willing to hug him and sleep next to him in such little clothing was only ever going to provoke thoughts he could never disclose to her. He didn’t want her to change how she behaved with him if she knew, he didn’t want anything to change their friendship at all.

“No, wait. I don’t mean like that.” He assured her.

“I know.” She lied with her best fake smile. Even in the face of such adversity, Daryl was always in awe of how she still managed to smile and laugh. In a way, he wished he was a little more like her, even if it wasn’t always genuine.

“Alright, um, I'll go to your mom’s and get ya mattress. We’ll move everything over n’ you can have the corner over there.” he offered.

To his irritation, she protested and told him that he couldn’t possibly be serious in giving up his own space and privacy to have her live with him. He quickly shut her down, telling her in no uncertain terms that he would rather live in the shack himself than see her out in the woods all alone.

“Ok.” She finally said “I’ll have to get a real job on weekends though, see if I can save up for a room somewhere or something. Maybe I should just drop out of high school”

Emily was friendly with the owner of a local diner who, on the odd occasion would throw her some cash for doing dishes in the kitchen a couple of times a week. She pondered the chances of being allowed to work as a waitress when she turned sixteen.

“Don’t worry about that for now.” He shrugged

“Are you even going to ask Merle?” She didn’t expect Merle to argue too much due to the fact that to him, it was as though she lived there already. He said nothing when she was given a key and began to come and go as she pleased. His main bug bear being that she always left the toilet seat down.

“He’ll be fine with it” Daryl quickly confirmed before the air left his lungs in a huff and he thought twice. “Just… look, he ain’t a rapist or nothin’ but just stay away from him, alright?”

It was no secret that the older Dixon brother was notorious in their town, feared by most and loathed by many, not least because of his chauvinist attitude towards women.

“He’s never done anything to me, Daryl. He’s just an ass when he’s drunk.” Emily replied.

“Yeah. Well, now he knows I’m old enough to kick his god damn teeth in if he tries anythin’ with ya.”

She giggled at his bravado but didn’t take it as an empty threat. Daryl had been in enough fights in his fifteen years to last him a lifetime.

He shifted and turned to face her, squashing one of his arms against the headboard. Moving her hair from her face, he delicately touched the graze on her cheek “she was pretty brutal this time, huh?”

“It looks worse than it is.” She half smiled.

“It looks like she crossed a line…your face.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t care who knows anymore. Says I’m not her daughter now anyway. She doesn’t want me there”

Daryl’s blood boiled. How could anyone not want Emily? She was a ray of sunshine on a dark day, a bold and brave soul who knew what it was to adapt and survive. To him, she was incredible and her mother was nothing more than the female version of his own father.

“That bitch’s loss is my gain. I want you here.”

She smiled sadly at him, grateful but the weight of her situation dragged her down.

“You put anythin’ on that?” He motioned to her cheekbone.

“No, I was busy making sure you didn’t die in the night.” She commented with a light shove of his arm.

Without a word, he swung his legs out of the bed and crossed the room to the door, disappearing from sight and trying not to imagine Emily peeling his clothes from his body the night before and leaving him in just his boxers. She watched his scarred back vanish into the hallway and thought that he might well be the most attractive, scarred boy she’d ever seen.

When he returned, he brought with him a small bottle of antiseptic spray and gauze. He sat on the side of the bed in front of her, spraying her cheek and gently wiping at her wound which appeared just as angry as the night before. She closed her eyes, sensing a rising barrage of emotion and fought to push it back down. She failed and a single tear escaped her eye. Instead of telling her not to cry and scolding her for it, he wiped the salty drop away with his thumb and nudged behind her shoulders with his fingers. She leaned forwards and he wrapped his arms around her, the exposed flesh of his bare torso tingling from her touch.

“Ain’t no fucker gonna hurt ya now.” He whispered into her ear.

When he pulled away, she quickly wiped both eyes before he could tell her to stop crying. He was the perfect distraction from her despair. His body was still skinny but filling out as time passed. His arms were more muscular and his shoulders were wider and try as she might, she couldn’t refrain from staring. But he was staring right back and trawling the far corners of his mind to find something to break the silence. How had this happened? Why were there now these awkward, inexplicable moments when there never had been before?

“Thanks for watchin’ over me.” He managed to croak out.

“Thanks for letting me live with you.” she shot back. “I’ll have to make sure the couch is free when you bring girls home, so you can still have your privacy.”

Daryl scoffed loudly at that idea. It was ridiculous to him. He wasn’t the type to hover around girls and persuade them into anything. He had urges just like every other Male his age, but his only, rare success was when he was propositioned and wasn’t fool enough to say no.

“I don’t bring no girls home.” He mumbled.

“That’s a lie. I heard you brought Stephanie back here last week.”

“Didn’t mean nothin. She just gave me a shitty blow job n’ we got high.”

Stephanie didn’t make a secret of the fact that she wanted to spend some time alone with Daryl when she dangled a bag of weed in front of him and shot him an enthusiastic wink. He weighed up the possible problems it could cause; Merle walking in and ridiculing him, Stephanie catching feelings he wasn’t interested in or being hurt by his complete lack of interest in her. He guessed it was worth the risk if it meant he got something out of it and so, he invited her over and they spent the evening smoking joints and fooling around.

“I heard she likes you.” Emily muttered with an irritation to her tone.

“Ain’t interested.”

“But why?”

“Just never like nobody.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, scanning his features in an attempt to dig up and untruth.

“Are you lying to me? Is the porn in your nightstand a smokescreen? Are you gay?” She questioned.

Daryl recoiled as if he’d been hit. It was the second time she'd asked the same question. 

“What?! Hell naw! I ain’t gay, girl! I just… I don’t want no relationship.”

“Oh” she said with a small nod. “Well, if it’s all the same to you I’d appreciate a heads up if you have another ‘blow-job blow-out’ night. Y’know, so I can make myself scarce.”

He climbed over her, slipping back under the covers to soothe the goose pimples on his cold skin. He shivered briefly and grumbled a noise of agreement at her. Not that he had anymore plans for bad sexual encounters with Stephanie.

“C’mon, we’re late for school and you have to go, you missed three days last week and you’re going to end up in shit again. Get up.” She instructed firmly with a slap on the covers over his legs. He groaned in resistance and yawned.

She got out of bed and crossed the room, lifting her arms and gathering her hair. She twisted it and curled it and let it drop down her back in an appealing curtain of loose waves. Daryl felt a stab of guilt when his eyes began to roam her body, the curve of her waist, her firm backside and the way her top did nothing to hide her nipples. A warmth hummed through his body, gathering at his groin and he was suddenly very aware of movement below the covers. She squinted into the dirty mirror that hung on the closet door and caught a glimpse over her shoulder in the reflection of him staring at her. She turned and walked over to the bed, grabbing the covers and yanking on them. Daryl’s face flashed with panic and his fists locked around the quilt on either side of his legs.

“Get up, lazy ass! Did you not hear me? We’re late!” She cried

“Alright. I am.” He complained.

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“You’re not doing a whole lot of moving.”

“I can’t right now” he mumbled.

“What? Why?”

“’Cause I need to get rid of this fuckin’… _guy problem_ , alright?! Jesus!” He cried, his ears and nose tinting pink with embarrassment.

“Oh! Oh, I uh…I see. I’ll just go…get a shower. You just…do your thing…whatever you need to do” she babbled while gathering her backpack and holding it to her front. She backed up to the door.

“It ain’t you. I mean, it is but… ugh. Never mind” he tried to explain.

She felt a strange sense of achievement at the prospect of her having that effect on him. She made a mental note to wear more clothes in future to save any humiliating situations but she wasn’t about to lie to herself, she hadn’t managed to provoke such a reaction in a boy before and the thought was both exhilarating and a little scary.

“Think I might have a thing or two to learn about living so close to a dude.” She mentioned before vanishing from the room. Daryl lay back and thudded his head against the pillow, forcing his mind to think of something other than the gorgeous curves of Emily’s body and the pulsing warmth between his legs

“Yup, I definitely aint gay.” He muttered to himself.


End file.
